


Star of the Sea

by Azzy_Darling



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Mpreg, Secrets, surprise parring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 06:33:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 36,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azzy_Darling/pseuds/Azzy_Darling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ecthelion is in love with Tuor, but when that goes south he makes a series of bad choices that he thinks will mark him for ever. He dies for the honor of the house of the fountain, and for Tuor for whom he still pines. But what happens when the Valar decides to give him another chance?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He left at dawn

**Author's Note:**

> This story is old too, from around 2005. I really like this story though so I thought I'd upload it here. Anyway there is a made up twin brother for Ecthelion, and other HUGE liberties with canon. Also the main pairring is sorta a secret so I can't say too much here in the beginning. I hope you like it though.
> 
> Dude, once I could do these ass long w.i.p stories. What happened?
> 
> Betaed by LISBET

_My lover’s gone I know that kiss will be my last_

_No more his song_

_The tune upon his lips has passed_

_I sing alone_

_Dido – My lover’s gone_

___________________________________

 

Watching the night from his balcony, Ecthelion wrapped his robe closer around his body. On nights with frost in the air, like tonight, the stars stood out like little lanterns, bathing all below them in a ghostly light. The young lord let his eyes roam the garden, but tonight, as on the previous night, the garden was silent, not a breath of wind moved, and the leaves didn’t even make a rustle. Ecthelion shivered from the cold and with a sinking heart he tried to cling to the hope of his lover suddenly running over the grass below the balcony. He strained his ears to hear if the small wrought iron door in the east corner of the garden squeaked on its hinges, but it didn’t. The young lord watched his breath as it came out in little puffy clouds, when a wind suddenly picked up and chilled him to the bone. There was a knock on his door but he ignored it. He didn’t want to speak with anyone at this hour. “Where are you?” he whispered to himself. He didn’t understand it; it had been 10 days since Tuor had last been here. Ecthelion had frantically tried to sort through his memories of their last meeting to see if he could place his finger on anything that had seemed off, but he couldn't. It had all been as it usually was. The young man had come here in the shadows, climbed the tree that was growing against the wall of the house, and had met him here on the balcony. They had embraced, kissed and talked in hushed voices, before they had withdrawn to his rooms, and then made love on his bed. After they had caught their breath, Tuor got up, kissed him farewell and left the same way he came in. Nothing strange, no unusual words between them. Ecthelion shook his head. He simply didn’t understand. He had played with the thought that they had been found out, but if that had been the case, King Turgon’s soldiers would already have been here and taken him into custody. Nothing had happened, absolutely nothing. Could Tuor be ill? Men fell ill, and it was the beginning of the winter after all. Yes, that must be it; Tuor had fallen ill and was confined to his bed.

The knocks on the door continued, until someone just turned the handle. “Ecthelion!” a deep voice said, “Why didn’t you answer my knocking?”

Ecthelion didn’t need to turn around to know who this was. “I am here Ithildin, I am sorry. I was lost in thought, and I didn’t hear you”

“By the Valar, Brother, you are about to turn into an icicle. Please come inside.” Ithildin held out his hand and Ecthelion took it with a smile, letting his twin lead him inside. “Why on earth did you stay out there so long?” Ithildin said with a worried frown, rubbing heat into Ecthelion’s hands with his own.

“I was watching the stars,” he said with a disarming smile. “I guess I lost track of time.”

“You worry me,” Ithildin said, wrapping his brother in a warm blanket. “You should have noticed that you were trembling from the cold, and have gone inside.”

“Forgive me, Ithildin, it shan’t happen again,” Ecthelion smiled at his brother. “I promise.”

“You have been acting most strange lately,” Ithildin said, walking over to a sparse liquor cabinet and pouring them a glass each of some thick red wine. Handing his twin one, he sat down in a char, facing Ecthelion. “Will you tell me what is wrong?”

Ecthelion looked at his brother, sitting there in a midnight blue robe with his hair braided in a single plait. They had the exact same hair colour, the exact same lips and nose. It was like looking into a mirror, were it not for the fact that Ithildin had lost his right eye in battle, and now wore an eye patch to hide the missing eye. Ecthelion had seen it without the patch and knew there was nothing but an empty hole where the eye should have been. But with the eye patch on, Ithildin looked like a sophisticated villain of some sorts, the perfect match of beauty and death. Taking a sip of the strong liquor, he winced and nodded. Oh how he wished he could tell Ithildin the truth. He wanted nothing more than to unburden his heart, knowing his twin he would never judge him, but it was too dangerous to tell him. To do what he did was high treason. This would earn him life in exile if he were lucky, or death if Turgon was in the wrong mood. True, no hatchet man would behead him on a public square, but he could end up with no choice but to serve his king on a suicide mission outside the walls. “I…” he said as he blushed a little, taking another sip of the wine, “I miss some company.”

“Oh,” Ithildin breathed and nodded in agreement. “I see.”

“No you don’t,” Ecthelion said in a childish tone. “Since Lord Glorfindel made his intentions clear, no one else has dared approach me, and... frankly, Glorfindel is appalling!”

“Appalling?” Ithildin laughed. “What is wrong with him? Is he physically challenged under his trousers or something?”

“Honestly, Ithildin!” Ecthelion gasped. “I wouldn't know! I never bothered to look!” The young lord emptied his wine glass. “Lord Glorfindel has the most annoying ego, surely you have noticed this.”

“He seems pretty full of himself, agreed,” Ithildin said with an amused shake of his head.

“See?” Ecthelion whined.

Ithildin stood as he emptied his glass “I am sure someone will come along who is not afraid of challenging the lord of egos a little.” He leaned in and kissed his brother’s forehead tenderly. “Sleep tight, brother. I will see you in the morning.”

“You too,” Ecthelion said to his back as Ithildin left his rooms, leaving Ecthelion to his own company once more. The young elf stood up and went to close the drapes in front of his balcony door. He stopped and looked out the windows, watching little snowflakes beginning to softly, silently land on everything outside. “I miss you,” he whispered before he closed the thick purple drapes with one move.

Once in bed he flopped down on the mattress with a sigh. His bed didn’t smell of Tuor anymore, and it frightened the young elf. What if the man’s musky sent would never linger in his bed again? This didn’t even feel like his bed anymore. Closing his eyes, Ecthelion could see the large cherry tree on Tumladen. He smiled to himself, remembering that spring day when he and Tuor had gone out horseback riding, racing from the city to the cherry tree. He remembered how Tuor had grabbed his chin with this fingers, and made him look into those blue eyes. “You are most beautiful, my lord Ecthelion,” he had whispered, and Ecthelion had looked away demurely, but he had not moved. He had been nailed to the spot, feeling his heartbeat speed up. But nothing happened, not until Ecthelion looked up at Tuor once more. He remembered the man had looked so flustered. Maybe it had been the first time he had encountered a lovesick elf. This memory had Ecthelion smile to himself. He had almost scared the poor man, but instead of feeling overwhelmed by such a visible display of lust, the man had tried to control the situation and had whispered with a trembling voice, “Can I kiss you?” Ecthelion had wordlessly wrapped his arms around the man’s neck and had devoured his soul in a single kiss.

Ecthelion turned in his bed, feeling strangely melancholy by this memory. It seemed like an old faded painting, what had seemed like only yesterday for days, now seemed like a worn and cherished artefact of days gone by. He had tried to understand, tried to make excuses and tried to wait. But now the young elf felt tears well in his eyes. What if Tuor had found himself another love interest? What if he would never come back, what then? Did he expect Ecthelion to be just as fickle with his heart? Maybe Tuor thought that because he had given his body so freely by the cherry tree that he was like that with any elf or man that struck his fancy! Deeply troubled, Ecthelion finally fell asleep and did not wake until the first rays of daylight peeked through the thick drapes.

Slowly waking, he opened his eyes, only to look straight into Ithildin’s excited grin. “Good morning, brother,” he chirped merrily. “Guess what!?”

“What?” Ecthelion groaned, sitting up slowly, not at all sharing his brother’s morning enthusiasm.

“You didn’t guess,” Ithildin stated.

“All right,” Ecthelion sighed. “The Valar were bored mindless, and relocated Gondolin out on the march of Maedhros. And so we finally get to see the Fëanorians.”

“Oaf!” Ithildin laughed. “No, we got an invitation from the King! Isn’t that great?”

“Woopity woo,” Ecthelion moaned as he got out of bed.

“Uhm, I get the distinct notion that you are not the least bit interested. I thought you’d be overly excited, oh well... “ Ithildin said and rose from the bed. “I just figured it would be your chance to, you know... meet someone.”

“Why am I already regretting I told you that yesterday?” Ecthelion said as he stalked over towards the bathroom. “I don’t need you playing matchmaker.”

“Why not? Apparently you are not doing a very good job yourself!” Ithildin crossed his arms over his chest in childish defence. “Tell me you will go, and I shall send word to the King right away to expect us both.”

“All right, but don’t embarrass me, don’t try and sell me off to some random handsome elf,” Ecthelion said, covering the final distance to the bathroom.

“Honestly, I wouldn't know what to look for, brother. I do not share my body with elves of the same sex as myself, so well.. I don’t know what makes someone lover material,” Ithildin stated.

“Good,” Ecthelion yelled from the bathroom. “That means you won’t be stealing my sweethearts.”

Ithildin rolled his eyes. “I will inform the king to expect us both, then.”

“You do that, brother,” Ecthelion yelled. Waiting until he heard the door to the hall slam shut, he lowered his body into the hot water. This was his chance to see what was wrong with Tuor. Hopefully his fears were completely a figment of his imagination.

 


	2. Crush the pedals on the floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ecthelion finally finds out what is nagging Tuor, and the reason for his very strange behaviour. And Glorfindel beams in his fifteen minutes fame.

_In illusion comfort lie_  
The safest way is straight and narrow  
No confusion no surprise. 

_Sisters of Mercy – Alice_

___________________________________________________________

Ecthelion was already regretting that he agreed to come to the feast. Ithildin looked awfully smug, elbowing him when they had gotten a drink. “What about that blond elf in the blue robe over by the window?” he whispered. 

Ecthelion looked, and groaned, “I know him, and you can forget it!” Ithildin looked over the crowd and Ecthelion grabbed the collar of his robe. “Don’t even get started, Ithildin!” 

“I am just trying to help,” Ithildin whispered back

“Then don’t,” Ecthelion said with a hiss hidden behind a smile. 

“As you wish,” Ithildin sighed as he disappeared into the crowd of elves. Ecthelion spotted Tuor right away, he was talking to one of Turgon’s advisors, when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Spinning around, he looked right into the face of the dark elf. “Master Maeglin,” Ecthelion said with a polite smile. 

“Lord Ecthelion,” the dark elf said with a toneless voice. “I was asked to bring you this.” He handed him a drink. 

“Thank you ever so much, Master Maeglin,” the young lord said, feeling really uncomfortable under Maeglin’s gaze. “I need some fresh air,” he said quickly, excusing himself as he fled from the eerie elf. He could almost feel the relief physically as he inhaled the cold frost air. He slowly sipped the drink Maeglin had brought, which by the way had surprised him more than anything. He was already trying to make up an excuse to leave so suddenly, but all his excuses ended up lame, and he just didn’t know how to escape this party quickly. 

“Ecthelion?” a voice said behind him. 

The young lord smiled, he didn’t need to look to know whom this voice belonged to. “Tuor,” he whispered as he turned and looked directly at the man. “So good of you to find time in your apparently busy schedule for me.” 

Tuor just stood there and shuffled his feet. “I thought you might want a drink, my lord,” he said, holding out a glass to the elf.

The young elf lord took the glass, and placed the old drink on the balcony rail. He wanted to grab this man and shake him till his neck rattled, he wanted to scream and yell, why are you avoiding me? Why are you acting this humble? What is wrong?!, but he just took a sip of his drink and smiled. “Thank you,” he said softly, looking over at the man who seemed to cling to the railing. Ecthelion turned his head and observed him. There was definably something wrong. “Are you not well, my lord?” he said taking a step towards Tuor.

“No, I am not well,” the man said as he looked up. Seeing the young elf’s worried green eyes looking back at him he could have screamed, and within a second he had covered the distance between them and locked their lips in a crushing kiss. 

Ecthelion pushed Tuor away with a hysterical move. “What is wrong with you?” he whispered. 

“I don’t know,” Tuor whispered back. 

Ecthelion caressed the man’s cheek with a slender hand. “Maybe you should rest, before you do anymore dangerous and foolish acts.” 

“I am sorry,” Tuor mumbled and suddenly fled back into the party, leaving Ecthelion on the balcony.

The elf lord picked up his glass again and took a sip. At least he solved a part of the puzzle, and Tuor was indeed acting most strange. What could have brought on this? The man seemed detached, frightened and certainly most confused. He looked out on the gardens when he felt someone settle next to him, and from the smell of lavender, he could tell it had to be Glorfindel. 

“My, my, my Ecthelion,” Glorfindel said in a hushed voice, dripping with acid. “I never thought you went for the rugged mortals.” 

Ecthelion took a deep shuddering breath. “I don’t,” he whispered, praying to the Valar that his voice didn’t tremble too much. But as he raised the glass to take another sip, because his mouth had suddenly gone dry, he noticed his hand shook, and chiding himself, he knew that Glorfindel also saw this.

“Oh well, pretty one, this is not the place for this discussion, I shall visit you in some days.” Glorfindel picked up Ecthelion’s ice cold trembling hand and kissed it gently. “Until then, enjoy the party, lord Ecthelion.”

Once Glorfindel had left, Ecthelion let out a breath he had not known he had been holding. “By the Valar... No!... Oh no,” he whispered. Resting his forehead in his palm, he stood like that forever trying to gather up the nerve to go back into the party.  
_______________________________

Days went by and Ecthelion saw nothing of Glorfindel. The young elf lord knew that the lord of the golden flower would love this; he would absolutely glow if he knew of his sleepless nights, and his tears when no one was watching. This night he was standing in the kitchen making himself a cup of tea, waiting for Ithildin to get home. His twin was attending a games match, and probably getting very drunk in the process; how he envied Ithildin’s easy going social life. 

Leaving the kitchen, Ecthelion was carrying his cup and munching on a piece of bread, when his eye caught something that would have caused him to drop his cup, had he not held on to it for dear life. “Glorfindel,” he croaked, looking wide-eyed at the slender shadow by the patio doors. 

“Good evening, dear Ecthelion,” Glorfindel said softly without turning around. “I never thought you for a comfort eater, but then again it seems like I don’t know you as well as I thought.”

Ecthelion swallowed hard and with great effort set down his cup on the dining table. “What do you want from me, Glorfindel?” 

Glorfindel broke out into mirthless laughter. “Let us see...” he turned around and smiled in a predatory way at the frightened elf on the other side of the large oak dining table. “I could give my rather unusual information to the king, and then both you and your vile little lover toy would no longer be here, you know that.” Ecthelion nodded slowly, and Glorfindel clapped his hands enthusiastically. “Good! But you see, my dilemma is, that I really don’t care what happens to that horrid little mortal man, but you, my dear beautiful Ecthelion, I wouldn't like to be the one to take you outside the mountains to an uncertain fait, or maybe not that uncertain. It would involve death for sure.” Glorfindel took two steps towards Ecthelion and the young elf stepped three steps backward. “I am not a cruel elf, Ecthelion. Nothing would give me more joy than to see you remain here in Gondolin.” 

“Ho...How?” Ecthelion stuttered, hating the way his voice sounded.

“Give me what I want, my precious,” Glorfindel smirked, pushing a golden lock of slightly curled hair out of his face.

Ecthelion paled. “I cannot give you anything. Ithildin holds all the means.” 

“I don’t want anything that Ithildin possesses, and do you really think me that greedy? Or stupid? You cannot buy my silence with money.” The golden elf walked closer, and Ecthelion kept stumbling backward, until Glorfindel picked up pace, and Ecthelion tripped on his robe, landing on his behind, but before he had a chance to get up, Glorfindel was hovering above him. “What I want, is you,” the blond elf said in a husky tone. 

“Wh...what?” the raven haired elf gasped, seeing Glorfindel smirk. A bright flame of rage flared inside him, and he fisted his hands, slamming them down into the wooden floor. Looking up at the gloating elf, he screamed at the top of his lungs, “Are you insane? Never in my life would I agree to such an arrangement!” 

“Really?” Glorfindel said, trying to maintain his superior smile. 

“You are mad, Glorfindel,” Ecthelion shook his head in disbelief. While trying to hold his robe closed with one hand, he pointed at his tormentor with the other. “Get out of my house!” 

“If you wish, my dear Ecthelion,” Glorfindel said softly. “I give you a week, then I will take my information to the king. I am sure he is most interested in knowing that his beloved lord of the fountain is kissing his daughter’s fiancé.” And with that remark Glorfindel left Ecthelion on the floor in the dark living room. 

“Fiancé?” he whispered to himself. No, it had to be a clever lie, and Tuor would never do something like that! Or?... Could this be the reason why the young man had not come to his balcony for a month in a row? Confused, humiliated and angry, Ecthelion rose from the floor and ran on bare feet to his rooms and locked the door.  
_________________________________________________

Three days had gone by, and by now Ecthelion was a nervous wreck. He battled with himself what to do with this situation, he had tried to tell himself that Glorfindel would never go to the king, but deep inside him he knew that the blond elf would. He had bruised his ego once, and an elf like the lord of the golden flower would not stand for that for long. He had stopped waiting out on the cold balcony at night, lost hope in his beloved to cross the garden ever again. But nevertheless, he kept the drapes open, just in case. 

He had not heard anyone approaching when three knocks rapped on the glass of the balcony doors. Ecthelion almost fell off the sofa where he had been lying slumbering. Sitting straight up, he stared at the window, blinking in disbelief waiting for the image to disappear as were it a leftover of his dream. But as the man knocked softly on the glass again, the elf was sure that it was indeed Tuor who had come to see him. He stood up and slowly opened the balcony door; normally they would embrace and kiss, but not tonight. Ecthelion stepped back, watching as his beloved stepped into the room. “I didn’t think you would come back,” he said oddly flat.

“You stopped waiting for me,” Tuor whispered, sitting down on the sofa, wringing his hands nervously.

“No, I never stopped waiting my love,” Ecthelion said softly, sitting down in a chair next to the sofa. 

The silence was crushing, and when Ecthelion finally felt like he was about to go insane, Tuor whispered, “This is my last visit.”

So Glorfindel told me the truth, Ecthelion thought, paling. “I had gathered that much,” he mumbled, feeling those treacherous tears well up in his eyes again. He bit his lip to hold them back. How could Tuor just stop loving him? Just like that! He didn’t understand, maybe the man had never loved him as much as Ecthelion had loved him. 

“I asked for Lady Idril’s hand in marriage,” the young man whispered, still looking at his own hands in his lap. 

One thing was Glorfindel telling him there bad tidings, but to hear it from Tuor’s mouth was quite different, and in the end Ecthelion gave up struggling with his tears, and let them flow down his cheeks. “I am happy for you,” he croaked. 

“Liar,” Tuor said softly with a sad little smile on his lips.

“Why did you bother to come all this way in the middle of the night to tell me this? You could have told me at the party at the castle,” Ecthelion said with a surprisingly even voice. 

“Because I have been unjust to you,” Tuor said, and for the first time he looked up at the elf, and leaned over to wipe the tears from the soft cheeks, but Ecthelion batted his hand away. 

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed on the brink of hysteria, wiping his tears himself with his sleeve. 

“Forgive me,” Tuor whispered. Seeing Ecthelion’s tears was surprising to Tuor; he had not suspected he would mean that much to the beautiful elf. “I should leave,” he mumbled and moved to stand, when Ecthelion laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Will you tell me why?” the dark haired elf said, blinking tears from his eyelashes, frowning in annoyance over his own fragility. Tuor shook his head, and moved away from the elf’s hand. “You won’t even tell me why you are marrying the kings daughter?” 

The man took a deep breath. “I know what you are thinking, but I ‘do’ love you Ecthelion, I always have and I always will.” 

“Don’t tell me such sweet lies, Tuor, it does not become you,” Ecthelion sneered. 

“Idril is really a warm, loving and beautiful elf,” Tuor whispered, “and I don’t remember when I started to feel something for her.” He walked around the sofa and leaned against the balcony door frame. “I love you both; it is driving me insane that I have to choose.” Ecthelion didn’t say anything, he just turned in his seat and watched the tormented man at the glass doors. “Sons, Ecthelion.. Lady Idril can grant me that, you cannot.” 

“Sons,” Ecthelion whispered and raked a hand through his hair.

“Yes, sons. I am mortal. And my time here is short compared to yours; my only way of staying immortal is to have offspring,” Tuor said in a flat voice.

The elf took a deep breath and stood up, walking slowly to where Tuor was standing and wrapped his arms around the man. “Someday I will forgive you, but it is not today.”

“Thank you,” Tuor whispered. 

“Now go back to your wife-to-be and take good care of her,” the elf whispered, planting a soft kiss in the man’s neck. 

Tuor opened his mouth to speak, but no words seemed to fit the situation, and so he left. Ecthelion stood on the balcony and watched the man run across the gardens and heard the hinges of the wrought iron door screech. He wished he would cry, curse, destroy and scream. But he was nailed to the spot, completely unable to move as he felt his entire world crash down around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 05 AN: I like a bad ass Glorfindel, so shoot me *laughs*, he won’t continue to be this haughty throughout the entire story tho’. And tell me if I am the only one that really wants to kick Tuor that fucking spineless jerk in the nads! Oh man, I need a life when I can get that annoyed with characters I think up. – urgh


	3. You must take it where it’s found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the young lord of the house of the fountain finally finds his courage, this leaves Ithildin rather baffled tho’.

_if not now, Then when?_   
_If Into today_   
_Then why make your promises._   
_A love declared for days to come_   
_...Is as good as none_

_T. Chapman – if not now_

_______________________________________________

 

It had taken him an entire day to work up the nerve to visit Glorfindel, and there was nothing Ecthelion wanted more than to run to Ithildin for help and support, which he would most likely gladly give. But he refused to put his brother in danger, and this was indeed explosive knowledge, especially since Idril and Tuor was now betrothed. The young elf had spend hours trying to decide if he should dress for the occasion or not. Finally he decided against it. And had walked out the door and had rode his horse, without the use of anything but a rein, to the house of the golden flower. He dismounted in front of the giant building. This house was twice the size of his own, and far more decorated. Glorfindel was an elf for details apparently.

Even before he knocked the giant brass doorknocker, Ecthelion was met by one of Glorfindel’s servants, a very pretty strawberry blond elf who introduced himself, but Ecthelion didn’t even listen. He was guided towards the cramped library and asked to wait. The young elf sat down on a chair, looking around the room. He had never imagined Glorfindel to be fond of books, feeling a little embarrassed that he had judged the blond so just because he was an esteemed warrior. Not all swordsmen had to be brain dead. He heard the doorknob turn, and the momentary courage he had fled, and what met Glorfindel as he entered his library was a disarranged young frightened elf. “Ecthelion?” he said yawning, “what brings you here at this hour?”

“You do, my lord,” Ecthelion mumbled, wetting his lips nervously. “I...I... Don’t know how to...” the raven-haired elf’s voice dropped to a mere whisper.

Glorfindel smiled and looked down at the ferociously blushing elf. He looked so much younger than Glorfindel knew he was. He knew what Ecthelion was about to say; he could see it, even smell it. He could have given the young elf a helping hand in expressing his reason for this late call, but he didn’t. Actually Glorfindel took joy in this childish revenge for his humiliating dismissal the other day.

Ecthelion drew a deep breath and looked up at Glorfindel, frantically telling himself he did this for Tuor’s happiness, not because he was lonely, or maybe because being heartbroken and sad, he found the golden elf’s offer the tiniest bit tempting. “Do...Do... you still want me?” he finally said flinching a little as he heard his own voice barely above a whisper.

“I do” Glorfindel said smiling. “Stay by my side, and I shall never speak another word about your previous indiscretions.” Ecthelion nodded, taking Glorfindel's hand as it was offered to him, standing to his feet looking directly into the clear blue eyes of the golden lord. He was an imposing elf. It seemed like strength rolled off him in waves. It made Ecthelion feel very little and lost, and afraid he would get crushed under the other elf’s radiance. He could feel Glorfindel running his hands up his arms until they rested on his shoulders, the right hand gently gliding up to cup his chin, lifting his head so he looked directly at the golden elf’s impossibly blue eyes again. Ecthelion swallowed hard and tried a little timid smile. “So you finally agree to this arrangement?”

“Yes,” Ecthelion whispered with a hoarse voice, closing his eyes. He felt trapped and diseased, he just couldn't see any other way out of his trouble, and surely Glorfindel couldn't be that bad of a catch. After all, he was admired by many. But as the golden elf’s ego was so bloated, he of course had to catch the one elf who avoided him, and now he had done just that. The young lord of the house of the fountain was trapped in his own sticky web.

Glorfindel leaned down and kissed the younger elf, and if Ecthelion was pretending, he was an astounding actor. “Stay with me tonight,” he whispered against the other elf’s soft lips.

Short of breath from the kiss, Ecthelion blushed and smiled in agreement. And seeing Glorfindel light up from his answer, he couldn't help but think that this whole ordeal could have had a far worse outcome. And as Glorfindel untied the scarf that held his robe together, the burgundy red fabric fell to the floor and the blond elf stood stark naked in front of him there in the library.

The young elf blushed even more, and Glorfindel chuckled. “I always sleep in the nude,” but as Ecthelion didn’t answer, Glorfindel furrowed his brow. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Ecthelion whispered, slowly pulling his own tunic over his head. So this was how it was supposed to be? In the library? He nervously eyed the large desk and wondered just how many young elves had been bent over that particular piece of furniture to receive some of the golden lord’s loving. He had never touched anyone other than Tuor, and the prospect of Glorfindel's broad muscular body frightened him a little. “Wh...What if someone comes in here?” he finally whispered.

The golden haired elf just smiled and was about to say something about that why on earth should anyone visit the library in the middle of the night, but he could tell that Ecthelion was really troubled by the prospect, and so he turned to lock the heavy door. As he turned around again he saw the young dark haired elf standing in the middle of the room, covering himself with his hands, smiling nervously. He really was breathtaking in the pale moonlight that fell through the windows, and Glorfindel thought to himself that this was the most beautiful elf he had ever seen in his life. Instead of finding Ecthelion’s nervousness annoying, he found it endearing. “I dreamed about this for so long.” He quickly covered the space between them, and placed his hands on Ecthelion’s shoulders. “You are even more beautiful in person, than in my dreams,” he whispered.

Ecthelion was at a loss of what to do, but he figured he had to do something. And after all it was not like he had never done this before, and it was really not as hard as he had thought. Glorfindel was a most becoming elf, and so he lifted his hand and ran it slowly through the golden locks of Glorfindel. And as Glorfindel leaned into the touch and purred, he boldly wrapped his other arm around the blond’s waist, pulling him close. Every doubt he might had had about this fled as he felt what was almost like a sweet electric shock as their bodies met. Glorfindel lowered his head and nipped his way up Ecthelion’s neck, all the way to his ear where he gently sucked the top. “Let me claim you, my beautiful Ecthelion,” he breathed.

All Ecthelion could do was to close his eyes and purr, all nervousness gone. Even as Glorfindel turned him around, he instinctively leaned over the desk. What he had found so foreboding before was now just a part of the lust his entire body buzzed with. Before coming here, he had tried to imagine this. He had told himself that no one but Tuor could touch him like this, and whatever Glorfindel might find it in his perverted mind to do, would be a necessary evil. But as he felt the blond’s tongue against his guardian muscle, he let out a whimper, slowly losing his grip on the situation as Glorfindel turned out to be a most considerate and skilled lover, preparing him well for the upcoming intrusion. The young elf moaned softly as he felt a hand snake between his legs only to caress his rock hard arousal.

The dark haired elf whimpered pitifully as the soft caresses and the teasing of the blond’s fingers suddenly stopped. Breathing heavily, he waited in the moonlit room, but when he suddenly didn’t feel Glorfindel's hands on his skin any more, he turned his head to look over his shoulder. He couldn't help but to smile as he saw the golden elf stand right behind him, looking down on him with a sweet smile. Glorfindel leaned down over Ecthelion’s back, and whispered, “Leave your head like this, I want to see you as I claim you.” Glorfindel tenderly brushed away tendrils of sweaty hair from Ecthelion’s face, and kissed the corner of his mouth, before he slowly started to inch inside.

Ecthelion bit his lip as he felt the intrusion; it was such a bittersweet feeling. Pain and pleasure mixed in one delirious wave. None of them proved to be a vocal lover, and all that was heard was the sound of flesh on flesh, little purrs, soft moans and lust filled mews. Gasping for breath, Ecthelion found his release, too lost in liquid skies to notice that Glorfindel followed soon after.   
___________________________________________________

Sneaking in like a thief in the night, Ecthelion arrived at his own house just as dawn broke. He had counted on being able to make the trip to his own rooms unnoticed, but an amused voice called from the dining room. He knew he was caught and so he might as well just go sit down with Ithildin and get the scolding over with.

Ithildin looked up at Ecthelion as he came into the room, “Oh my, you look like you were dragged through a mender,” the elder twin laughed softly. And Ecthelion just blushed; he hated the fact that he blushed this easily, like some girl. But it had just always been that way, and Ithildin read him far too easily. “So who was the lucky one, brother”?

“I...” Ecthelion said, trying to wipe the grin off his face, he had to keep reminding himself that he didn’t like Glorfindel at all; in fact he hated the damn elf. “I was with Glorfindel,” he said, looking down at the table.

“Glorfindel?” Ithildin gasped. “But... why? I thought you found him... uh, what was the word? Appalling?”

“Every dog has his day,” Ecthelion said, knowing he would have to come up with a far better excuse before Ithildin would relax and stop worrying.

Ithildin eyed his twin with his good eye, and frowned. “You ‘do’ actually look happy,” he mumbled. He didn’t believe his twin one bit. He knew how to read Ecthelion’s body language far too well, and fidgeting with his sleeve as he did now, was a sign that he was hiding something. “Listen, I will not stop you, Glorfindel is a pretty elf, and he is absolutely a politically sound choice. But are you really in love? I don’t believe that your feelings would warm up to someone you spend a decade loathing, on one night, Ecthelion, so what are you not telling me?”

“I misjudged him,” Ecthelion said with a small smile. “Am I not allowed to be wrong?”

“Of course you are, I am just puzzled by your choice of lover.” Ithildin reached out for his coffee. “I should say that perhaps you should have started out with trying to befriend each other first. Doesn’t friendship create a base for love to come?”

“Not necessarily,” Ecthelion whispered, pouring some coffee into a cup that was clearly left for him.

“How absolutely vulgar of you,” Ithildin said mortified.

“Nevertheless,” Ecthelion said flatly, “it is what happened.”

“Okay, I believe you,” Ithildin said. He really didn’t believe his twin one bit, but who was he to argue? He didn’t know what had passed, and he didn’t know what words might had been exchanged, and why on earth Ecthelion had actually gone to the house of the golden flower in the first place was still a mystery.  
________________________________________________________

In the first month of spring, the king threw a big fantastic wedding for his daughter and Tuor. He had not at all been happy with her choice of husband, but since she was already with child, Turgon felt it urgent to press the wedding. And a grand wedding it was. All the important people from the city of Gondolin were invited, and the castle had been decorated with the first spring flowers.

Ithildin and Ecthelion came to present their wedding gift together, and Ecthelion battled with himself to keep appropriate eye contact and act normal as he handed it over to the bride and groom. He could see Idril’s tummy was a little swollen, and came to the conclusion that the rumours was true, she really was with child. He knew he should be happy or them, but he found it very hard. Feeling relieved as Ithildin guided them away and into the crowd, the young lord wrapped an arm around his twin’s waist. “It is a very pretty day, and the ceremony was beautiful. They are very lucky,” he whispered.

“Indeed,” Ithildin answered, resting his head against his twin’s shoulder. No doubt about it, Ecthelion was acting most strange, but Ithildin just couldn't solve the mystery yet. He needed more information, and so he decided to keep a close eye on his brother.

Later, Ithildin sat at a table with a glass of what could resemble brandy in front of him. He had watching Ecthelion all evening. He had been smiling, laughing and dancing. He had almost stolen the limelight from the bride and groom, and what seemed to puzzle Ithildin even more was the fact that he had noticed that Ecthelion had held Glorfindel’s hand while talking to some other elves. Maybe Ecthelion had really spoken the truth! He certainly acted as if he were very much in love, so much that he seemed to sizzle with hormones. It was most odd... Ithildin downed his drink and rose from the chair. Maybe he shouldn’t try and understand it at all, and just be happy for his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04 AN: I realised that I was being terribly hard on poor Glorfindel, so I figured id hurry up and at least make him a good shag *smiles*


	4. No time to reconsider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ecthelion finds himself in a most compromising situation that ends up being a disaster.

_Why should I forgive you?_   
_After all that I’ve seen_   
_Quietly whisper_   
_When my heart wants to scream._

_Portishead – seven months_

______________________________________________________

 

The day arrived where Tuor finally had his heir. Ecthelion woke to the sound of music in the streets, and he didn’t even want to know, so he buried himself under the covers again. When he finally emerged and went to get breakfast, he had spend hours in his room until hunger finally got the better of him. The entire household was buzzing, and he hadn’t even made it to the dining room before he knew that Tuor and Idril had a son. Smiling to himself, he could only imagine how happy Tuor would have to be. It must be the biggest day in his life, to finally hold his son and heir. When he arrived at the dining table, Ithildin was still seated there, long finished with his food. “Exciting, huh?” he said smiling.

“Oh yes,” Ecthelion said with a smile and sat down. “We should go there with a present soon.”

“Agreed, I had thought of later today,” Ithildin said softly. “What do you want to give him? I thought of giving him the large seashell, the one you can hear the ocean in. Odds are that the child will never experience the sea.”

“That is a good idea,” Ecthelion mumbled, not even really listening to what his brother said.

Ecthelion ate his breakfast in silence, until Ithildin suddenly said, “So, are you and Glorfindel serious?”

“Serious? What do you mean?” Ecthelion answered, taking a sip of his coffee, trying to look indifferent.

“Don’t be daft, brother, you know perfectly well what I mean,” the one-eyed twin said.

“I suppose so,” Ecthelion mumbled. “Why do you ask?”

“Because maybe you would want to arrive at Turgon’s court with him, and not me,” Ithildin said with a smile, trying to look like he didn’t care what his twin answered, when in fact he hoped he wouldn't have to go there with a present alone.

“No, no... I am going with you,” Ecthelion said, and chuckled softly at seeing his brother’s relief.

Ithildin nodded and rose from the chair. “I’m glad,” he said. “Then I will see you later, and we will go to the castle.”

Ecthelion nodded and took another piece of bread as his twin left the dining room.   
____________________________

Later, when they had delivered their gift, Ecthelion was standing out on the patio overlooking the king’s magnificent garden. A small gathering of elves was talking in the room inside with hushed voices, all praising the babe. And Ecthelion had to agree that it was indeed a beautiful child, and even if he had tried his hardest to resist, he had fallen in love with the little one the second he had seen him. What could he do? It was his beloved Tuor’s son.

“Why are you standing out here alone?” a tired voice said behind him.

Ecthelion spun around and smiled as he saw Tuor standing behind him. “You look exhausted,” he said softly, and he did. The man looked like he had not slept for days, looking happy and tired at the same time.

“I am, it has been a long night, and now there are people everywhere,” the man said with a yawn. “I needed the solitude of the garden.”

“Oh, then I shall be on my way,” Ecthelion said. “You have a very beautiful son,” he took a deep breath remembering that he had lost the right to all endearments, and so he settled for“Tuor.”

“Don’t go,” the man said. “Take a walk with me instead.”

“If you wish,” Ecthelion said with a smile, slowly beginning to walk away from the castle with Tuor by his side.

They were silent for a long time, until they came to a huge oak tree, and Tuor rested against the broad trunk. “I miss you,” he finally said. “I know I was the one who wronged you, but I had wished we at least could have remained friends.”

“I miss you, too,” the young elf lord whispered, “but you must understand that I cannot linger at your side. It hurts too much.”

Tuor nodded. “It is a most selfish wish, I know.”

“This is the best solution for all, my friend,” Ecthelion said, reaching out and caressing the man’s cheek. “You should spend your time being a good husband and father.”

“I am, and I will... But why does that have to rule you out of the equation?” Tuor smiled nervously waiting for the elf’s reply.

Ecthelion’s heart beat madly, he wanted him, he still wanted him! “Because...” he mumbled, “That is too dangerous.”

Tour seemed to think about that for a moment. “Some day,” he whispered as he stepped closer to Ecthelion, “some day soon I will come visit in the night, then we can decide what to do. Now is not the moment, you are absolutely right about that.”

Ecthelion held his breath as he felt Tuor press his lips against his in a swift kiss before the man quickly walked back to the castle. Now the poor elf was even more confused than before.   
_________________________________________

This whole ordeal had happened to have been partially seen and overheard by the king’s gardener, who in turn was friendly with the cook of the house of the golden flower. And within as little as a day, the news had reached the golden lord himself. Who then jumped directly on his horse and galloped to the house of the fountain, walking directly into the house searching for Ecthelion. He found him in the office that the twins shared; deeply concentrating on some scrolls, trying to figure out how many foals they could afford to breed this summer. As the door slammed, he saw Glorfindel stalking in with long angry strides. “Glorfindel,” he said softly, smiling at the golden elf, “what a pleasant surprise.”

“So,” Glorfindel said, “will you tell me what this ordeal with you and Tuor in the king’s garden was all about?”

“What?” Ecthelion said, completely surprised. He would have laughed had it not been for Glorfindel’s serious expression. “We talked. I don’t recall that there were any rules about conversation.” Glorfindel just leaned in over the desk, resting on his knuckles, patiently waiting for Ecthelion to say something; the young elf stared up at the golden lord. Had he been crying? He certainly looked very upset, and the strong mask that was Glorfindel had crumbled away, and instead Ecthelion was faced with something far more deadly and sore. “We made a deal, Glorfindel, and I kept my part. I promise you.”

“Did you?” Glorfindel hissed.

“I did, I promised to stay by your side, and I have.” Ecthelion could hear the tone of voice giving himself away, sounding just as nervous as he suddenly felt. Had someone seen Tuor kiss him? Had they heard what he had said? Apparently they had, otherwise Glorfindel would not be standing here.

“For how long have you been seeing him on the side?” Glorfindel spat. “Or maybe you never stopped meeting him at all.”

Ecthelion paled. “I haven’t been seeing anyone but you,” he croaked. “The deal was...”

“The deal is off, dear,” Glorfindel said, pushing himself from the table and standing up, crossing his arms over his chest. “You only have yourself to blame for this.”

Ecthelion stood up and quickly moved around the table to where Glorfindel was standing. “I beg you to reconsider your words, I have done nothing to jeopardize our arrangement,” he said, holding out his hands to the blond.

Glorfindel broke out in a mirthless laughter. “Do you think me that stupid?” He glared at Ecthelion, who seemed to shrink under the angry steel blue eyes. “Did I treat you wrong, Ecthelion? Did I not treat you with love?”

“Oh Glorfindel,” Ecthelion whispered, “you treated me with utmost respect and care, like a true lover should.”

“Ah, I see... and this is how you repay me? I tried to help you, Ecthelion, and yet you disappoint me,” the golden elf sneered, ignoring Ecthelion’s outstretched hands.

“No, no,” Ecthelion mumbled, feeling a cold shiver down his neck. This was a bad dream! This was not happening! He had been so careful! “Don’t say so!” Glorfindel just blinked and stared hatefully at the other elf. Ecthelion felt like the temperature in the room dropped, and the tension was so thick he was sure he could reach out and touch it. “Don’t dismiss me so,” he pleaded .

“My heart is cold to your pleas and sweet lies,” Glorfindel finally whispered. “Never again will I believe a word from your lips.”

“What will you have me do? I shall prove my innocence to you, should you wish it. I never betrayed my word to you!” As a last resort, Ecthelion dropped to his knees in front of the other elf, feeling desperation rise as the cold blue eyes of Glorfindel were made of ice, and not even a little comforting smile showing on his lips, which were now a this bloodless line. “I beg you to reconsider.”

Glorfindel looked down at the elf at his feet. Something inside him screamed that he should just forget this incident, and truth be told he might have, if not all of his household had already known, and soon every elf in Gondolin, and he would come out as a spineless idiot. “No,” he whispered, “it is over.”

Clutching the fabric of Glorfindel’s trousers, Ecthelion rested his forehead against the blond’s thigh; “No, no, no,” he mumbled. “You must believe me.”

“Why degrade yourself like this for me? After all, the love you showed me was fake, and this charade is over, Ecthelion. You might be the most beautiful of all, but your soul is as black as night. Those soft lips I have kissed, spill nothing but poison. You are despicable,” Glorfindel hissed, trying to move his leg, but Ecthelion dug his nails deeper into the fabric.

Looking up at the golden lord, Ecthelion’s vision was blurred by tears. “I did not lie when I said I cared for you,” he whispered. “Oh, Glorfindel!”

“Are you that consumed in your own darkness that you cannot see when the battle is lost?” Glorfindel spat, and this time forcefully pulled his leg from Ecthelion’s grip. “Goodbye, Ecthelion.”

“No!” Ecthelion cried and reached out for Glorfindel’s leg again, but the blond quickly moved away. Resting one hand on the floor, Ecthelion’s face was hidden behind a veil of dark hair. “What will you do now?” he whispered, barely audible.

“You already know that. This is not the hour for pretending, my beautiful Ecthelion,” Glorfindel said in a strangely soft voice. His hand hovered mid-air. He was tempted to lay it on the cascade of dark hair that tumbled from the other elf’s head and onto the wooden floor. He could see Ecthelion’s frame shake, but the emotion only rippled on the surface. Ecthelion had betrayed his trust. He had thought that the dark-haired elf had actually begun to love him back, but now he knew that this was not the fact. He had been played for a fool. And now it was time for his revenge.

Ecthelion pushed himself up to a sitting position, his hair still clinging to his face which was wet from tears. “Let me leave, then, let me disappear from Gondolin, but I beg you, do not speak with the king. You will destroy not only my life, but Idril’s, Ithildin’s and the baby’s too.”

“Cheap words, my dear,” Glorfindel said with an ice cold voice. “Nothing will happen to anyone but you and your little lover.” He took a deep breath.

A loud sob was the only answer that came from Ecthelion. He turned his head upwards and looked at Glorfindel again. “Please give me a chance to prove myself to you. Let me stay with you tonight my lord, and I shall show you that I am true to my word.”

Glorfindel furrowed his brows. “Nothing but a harlot,” he whispered, mostly to himself, before he turned and began to walk out of the office.

“No! Please!” Ecthelion screamed, and quickly scrambled to his feet, but Glorfindel was faster, and as he reached the door it was slammed in his face. Flinging it open, he ran out into the corridor, but Glorfindel was nowhere to be seen. He started to run down the long corridor. “Wait! My lord, please wait, please listen to me!” he screamed on the verge of panic, but no answer came, not until he heard the heavy wooden door to the street open and slam closed again, and before he had made it down the stairs he heard horse hooves gallop away. “By the Valar, no!” he whispered in a high-pitched voice. Sitting down on the stairs, he cried his heart out, frantically trying to think of a solution to this situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04 AN: urgh, can we please kick Tuor in the nads again? I hope someone is still reading, because I am certainly having fun writing this. Oh and don’t worry, as I said on the AN for the first chapter, this fic has a very fluffy end. But I also must warn those Glorfindel/Ecthelion fans, that this is NOT the main pairing, so don’t even ask me to have them come together. I have separate plans for those two. They get each their other loverly elf, I promise! *smiles*


	5. One step away from the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disaster strikes, and Ecthelion makes a fool out of himself.

_A moth into a butterfly_   
_And a lie into the sweetest truth_   
_I’m so afraid of life_   
_I try to call your name_   
_But I’m silenced by the fear of_   
_Dying in your heart once again._

_HIM – play dead._

________________________________________________

 

(Years later)

The first days, weeks, even months after the discussion in his office with Glorfindel, Ecthelion was a nervous wreck. He had expected soldiers to show up at every hour of the day, but nothing happened. Maybe Glorfindel had found a forgiving or even believing spot in his heart. But for fear of jeopardizing this fragile truce, Ecthelion stopped talking to anyone at the royal court. He had not been at his chamber when Tuor, as promised, had showed up in the midst of night. It was better to just become invisible, and with time Ecthelion hoped that everything, including him, should be forgotten. Ithildin had worried at first. He had begged and pleaded with his twin to come with him to gatherings, but Ecthelion had refused. He had isolated himself completely, becoming a ghost in his own house. There had been letters from the royal court, but he had burned them in the fireplace without reading them, and he had not even seen the shadow of Glorfindel since that dreadful day. Lulling himself into this half existence, Ecthelion had to admit that he was lonely, so very lost within his own darkness, as the golden lord had once accused him of being. Living in eternal fear that this was the day where Glorfindel finally executed his threat.

Ithildin had watched his twin withdraw from the world around him. Even if he had been a silent bystander to this for a long time, he was beginning to fear that his twin would choose the same fate as their mother, and leave this grand new land, to travel into the west, leaving them here to live their lives, but for a long time Ecthelion had barely been breathing. He looked like a pale dead version of the twin he used to know. And here he was, standing in front of Ecthelion’s door with a bottle of spirits. It had been so long since he had even spoken to his twin, and he missed him terribly. Opening the door, he found Ecthelion reading a book in front of the fire.

“I thought you could use a drink,” he said with a crooked smile, stepping inside the room, closing the door behind him.

“That was sweet of you, Ithildin,” Ecthelion said, not even looking up from his book. “But I am afraid I am not really in the mood for company this eve.”

“You are never in the mood for company anymore, brother,” Ithildin said as he snatched the book from Ecthelion’s hands, tossing it across the room. “This night you will drink with me, and you will tell me why you avoid every living soul.” He pushed a glass into Ecthelion’s hand, and then he sat down on the sofa, uncorking the bottle, watching his baffled twin. When Ithildin poured the liquid into his own glass, Ecthelion held his out to have it filled too; he had to admit that he was dying to unburden his heart, to share these dark secrets with his twin. But he never found the moment to do so.

The had a couple of drinks in silence, until Ecthelion downed his glass and held it out to get it refilled. “I have a confession to make,” he whispered, watching Ithildin nod. He started to tell his unfortunate tale from the beginning, and once he ended it, dawn was approaching, and Ithildin was sitting staring at him, deadly pale.

“You should have told me before,” Ithildin croaked.

Ecthelion nodded. “I know I deceived you, brother, but I just thought that if I ...” he sighed and reached a hand out to take Ithildin’s cold and clammy one. He smiled bitterly. “There is really no excuse for keeping you in the dark,” he mumbled, looking away from his twin, and up at a painting he had over his mantel.

“No,” Ithildin whispered, “You are my brother, my twin. I could never hate you, I love you, Ecthelion. Whatever you have done, we shall face together,” he said, softly squeezing Ecthelion’s hand.

“I refuse to have you suffer for my poor judgement,” Ecthelion said, turning his head back to look at his twin.

“Brother, let us sleep on it, and in the morning I am sure we can find a solution. Maybe the king will be lenient after all, since this situation lies years behind us,” Ithildin said, standing up and dragging Ecthelion to his feet. “I will stay here with you, if you want me to. You are not alone anymore, brother. We will find a way to solve this, and even should the worst happen, you will be in exile with me.”

Ecthelion wanted to dismiss Ithildin, but he couldn't. He had been alone for this long, and somehow knowing Ithildin was at his side, he felt strangely secure. Ithildin had always looked after him, comforted him as their mother left, taken upon himself to run the household just months after they came of age. And so he nodded and sealed Ithildin’s fate as well as his own. “Thank you,” he whispered.

They had only slept for two hours when the door when Ithildin woke to a loud commotion downstairs. He sat up, and untangled himself from his sleeping twin. The door to Ecthelion’s bedroom was flung open and a young servant, looking all flustered and distressed, almost fell into the room. “My lords, my lords,” he gasped, short of breath, “There are soldiers at the door, demanding that you both rally at the castle within the hour.”

Ecthelion woke with a shock, and almost rolled off the bed. Ithildin climbed out of bed and stalked over to the young servant elf. “Did they say why?” he growled, scaring the young elf, but he was unable to hide his own fear for the reason of this early call from king Turgon.

“War, my lord,” the young elf cried. “War!”

“By Eru!” Ecthelion gasped and got off the bed. This could only mean one thing; the hidden city was no longer hidden. For some odd reason Ecthelion’s first thought was of little Eärendil. He had prayed that the child would live out his life here, cocooned in love and peace, but it seemed like fate had other plans with their lives. He looked over at Ithildin, who had sat down on a chair, trying to understand this message. He didn’t know if he was relieved or scared. War! War would mean death and pain, but for a second he had thought that the soldiers had come to take them to see the king for a different matter. One thing he did know was that life as they knew it was over, and the future was as uncertain as it could possibly get.  
______________________________________

They had dressed in silence and now stood in the giant hall where they had so many times been attending gatherings of a happier kind. Now Ecthelion could smell the fear, the elves in the hall were nervous and frightened, waiting for the king to speak. Everyone talked with strangely hushed voices, as if it were blasphemy to speak normally. Finally the king appeared. He did not at all look like the beacon in the dark they needed, he looked just as frightened as the rest of them, worn and pale. “Good lords and soldiers of Gondolin,” the king called, silencing the crowd. Ithildin reached for Ecthelion’s hand, clutching it desperately as they waited for the king to speak his mind.

“Forgive me for waking you all so brutally this fine spring morning, but the enemy is close. They have taken up camp on Tumladen, it is true! They have found the entrance and are planning to destroy us all. Someone has sold us to Morgoth. I do not know who, or why. And this is not really important at this time.” A frightened whisper went through the crowd, as they were faced with the reality of a battle so close at hand. “Go home, kiss your wives, children, and loved ones, send your prayers to the Valar, arm yourselves, and come back here. The battle will begin at nightfall” As Turgon’s voice faded, the hall was silent. And elves started to slowly leave for their homes.

“Go home, brother,” Ecthelion said. “I shall join you very shortly.” When Ithildin looked puzzled, Ecthelion nodded towards Glorfindel, who stood at the far end of the hall, speaking with another blond elf. “I need to speak with him, just in case...” he closed his eyes and frowned, “you know.”

“I do,” Ithildin said, and kissed his brother’s cheek. “Hurry home,” he whispered as he too left the king’s halls to head home.

Ecthelion took a deep breath and walked over to Glorfindel, and tapping the golden lord’s shoulder, he cleared his throat. “My lord? Do you have a moment?” he said with a smile. Glorfindel turned around smiling, but seeing Ecthelion, his smile faded. The other blond elf silently left, leaving the two elves facing each other.

“War,” Ecthelion said softly, “who would have thought.”

“Get to the point,” Glorfindel said coldly, crossing his arms across his chest.

“We might perish,” Ecthelion whispered, “and… I miss you, lord Glorfindel.” He blushed slightly at his own words, knowing the full extends of his rather indecent proposal. Looking directly into the deep blue eyes of the blond lord, Ecthelion whispered, “Will you love me one last time? I don’t wish to die lonely.”

Glorfindel frowned. “Have you no decency?” and as Ecthelion lowered his head, Glorfindel slapped the dark haired youth hard across the cheek. “Consider that my answer, you deceased whore from the deepest pits of Angbard!”

Tears welled up in Ecthelion’s eyes, both from the humiliation and the pain from the backside of Glorfindel's hand. His lips trembled. He wanted to tell the blond that he had a really bad feeling about this upcoming battle. He was sure he would not survive, something inside him just knew this would be his last moment, and he regretted not being able to return the love that Glorfindel has showered him with once. Now all he wanted was to suck up that strength once more, just one last time before the end of all things. But he just stood still, knowing just how many elves that had heard the sound of Glorfindel's hand meeting his cheek echo in the hall.

“Go and die in whatever way suits you best, and stop pestering me,” the golden lord hissed. “You are not even worthy of wearing the kings uniform,” he said, before he quickly left the scene, leaving Ecthelion standing in the corner of the hall alone.

Ecthelion shortly after ran all the way across the city of Gondolin, only to find their front door open. He ran inside and flung himself around Ithildin’s neck. “I love you, brother,” he cried pitifully.

“I love you, too,” Ithildin whispered, feeling tears come to his eyes as well. “Whatever happens, I know he is wrong, you are a valiant and brave elf, and most of all you are my beloved twin.”

Ecthelion’s heart contracted painfully hearing those words. Ithildin had such faith in him, and it almost broke his heart. “When all this is over, you and I brother, we shall take our horses and ride to the shore, ride into oblivion and be free of all titles and restrictions, and only be Ithildin and Ecthelion, exploring things new and amazing.”

“I pray for that,” Ithildin whispered back, clutching his brother. Then something rumbled outside, followed by a deafening roar and then screams. “It has started,” Ithildin whispered.

“Yes,” Ecthelion breathed and kissed his brother’s cheek before he let go of their embrace to find his uniform and weapons, preparing for battle, to defend Gondolin from ruin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04 AN: ah, my favourite annoying trade, timeline jumps *laughs*, this is by the way the last chapter of this part (playing the liar) next time the real fun begins, this first part is really a kind of prequel to what is about to happen now. *Smiles* if I go a bit overboard here, it’s because I have a HIM cd run on repeat as I write this, so sue me.


	6. Don’t worry about a thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ecthelion suddenly finds himself in Lothlorien, completely in the dark as to why he should be chosen to be come back to life.

_Don’t worry about a thing_   
_‘Cause every little thing’s gonna be alright._

_Bob Marley – three little birds._

______________________________________________

 

Breathing was painful. This was the first recollection Ecthelion had of being alive once more. Once he became a little more aware of his surroundings, he blinked confusedly but could not focus. He heard someone speak softly but with an undercurrent of worry. He couldn't make out the words. A gigantic headache nestled behind his eyes, a vague image of a stern raven-haired elf came to him, of course! Namo, the doomsman of the Valar. He remembered now. Namo had personally come to see him, and while Ecthelion had been dumbstruck, Namo had been as calm as ever. As the Vala had begun to walk, Ecthelion had stumbled to keep up, listening to the soft voice explaining to him that the time of the elves was soon to end in Middle-earth. Ecthelion was saddened by this; he really couldn't tell why, it just seemed so tragic. But then the mighty Vala had stopped and taken Ecthelion’s hand in his. Ecthelion had somewhat expected the touch to be as cold as, yea death! But Namo’s hand had been warm and soft; he had waited for Ecthelion to look him in the eyes before he continued. He had said that Ecthelion still had a large part to play. Ecthelion had had a million questions, but Namo had seemed to know what he wanted to ask, and he had reassured him that he would be thrust upon the earth as he was now. All scars and burns he had incurred as he had fought the Balrog would perish, and he would look as he had done in life. Nor would he be bereft of his memories, for they played a very important part. And at last Namo had said that he might not recognize Middle-earth, but even if things had changed, some were still the same. Ecthelion must have looked utterly confused and frightened, for Namo smiled warmly and whispered, “The song of Eru will guide your steps; don’t worry so much, brave Ecthelion.”

And now the next thing he knew, he opened his eyes and looked right into a pair of large hazel eyes; they apparently belonged to whoever had comforted him. They looked alert and worried. He was about to say something when the elf who had been staring at him turned his head, yelling over his shoulder, “Rumil, bring me the blanket,” and the next thing Ecthelion knew, he was being wrapped in a warm blanket, and now a second set of worried brown eyes looked at him. “Are you well?” the new elf said carefully.

Ecthelion nodded slowly and smiled. These elves looked like Teleri, but that was impossible. What was left of that race remained in Valinor. Suddenly something struck him. Namo had not told him how much time had passed in Middle-earth while he had been in the halls waiting. Not that he actually remembered the Teleri elves much; he mostly just remembered clinging to his twin and their mother, being scared out of his mind. “Wh...Where am I?” he finally croaked.

Haldir smiled in relief. The strange elf didn’t seem mortally wounded ,and now that he had spoken he seemed sane enough. This of course just made him a bigger mystery. “You are in the golden wood of Lothlorien,” he said carefully.

Lothlorien, what on earth was that? He must have looked confused, because the elf with the warm voice just smiled. “May I ask, who are you?”

“I am...” Ecthelion croaked, what would be wise? “I...I... don’t remember,” he finally whispered. It was a blatant lie, he knew exactly who he was, but he had this second chance of life, and he would not want those warm brown eyes to look at him in loathing as they would realise they looked upon the harlot of Gondolin.

“Very well,” the first elf said. “I am Haldir, marchwarden of Lorien,” the silver haired elf smiled, “and that is my little brother, Rumil.” He nodded toward the other silver haired elf. Of course, they were brothers, Ecthelion thought to himself, inwardly chiding himself that he had not seen that. “And our middle brother, Orophin, is still out trying to hunt down some food for us. He will be back shortly.” Ecthelion nodded, wrapping the blanket more tightly around his body. Blushing to his roots, he realised they had come upon him naked. Haldir seemed to sense his distress and crooked his head. “We are but a day’s travel from Caras Galadhon. There you will go before my lord and lady, and if you are indeed what you claim to be, she will know, and you shall be welcomed.”

Ecthelion’s eyes widened. “She will know?” he whispered with a tiny voice.

Haldir nodded. “She can read your mind,” he said with a dangerous undertone. But then Haldir just stood up and turned to Rumil. “Gather some firewood, brother. It will be dark soon.” Rumil nodded and disappeared into the thickening, and then Haldir turned to Ecthelion once more. “I do not believe you one second,” he said softly. Ecthelion knitted his eyebrows, not sure what to make of this remark, and the silver haired elf continued. “I think you remember your name, but as I see no malice in your eyes, I choose to believe you have a good reason to keep your identity a secret.” Haldir scraped the loose dirt and leaves away in a circle, preparing for the firewood. “My first duty is to my lord and lady, so until my lady has given her verdict on you, I shall watch you closely, stranger.”

Ecthelion wet his lips and nodded. “I understand,” he croaked, and he did. He would have reacted just the same had he been in Haldir’s place.

The rest of the night was spent in peace. They ate the rabbits that Orophin returned with. Ecthelion found himself lost in the friendly bickering between the brothers. He missed Ithildin sorely. Why had it been he, and not his twin returned to Arda? He wished he could share a story of his twin, but as he claimed to have lost all memory, he couldn't very well tell them he too had a brother. He learned that Rumil was a decent singer, entertaining them all with some rather crude campfire songs. Haldir and Orophin seemed to be amused and Ecthelion found himself laughing along with the song of the farmer who mistakes his friend for his wife after a long binge in town. He had missed this. He had never been a warrior at heart, but life had been different back then, and he had been a soldier out of necessity, not of choice.

Ecthelion had not slept at all. He had lain awake and watched the stars, awe-struck just to gaze upon the starlit night. These were strange days indeed. And the next day they had travelled to the heart of the golden wood. Wrapped in the blanket, he had been riding on Rumil’s horse, with Rumil holding the reins, walking beside the horse. Rumil had several times tried to engage him in conversation, but Ecthelion had not known what to answer. He was terrified of being presented before the lord and lady of these woods. Who were they?   
_________

Suddenly he was there, standing alone in a huge talan at the top of the biggest tree he had ever seen. He still had difficulty taking in this city. It looked so much like the vague memory he had from before they had set out on the walk across the ice. When suddenly two white shining elves came floating towards him, his eyes widened and his mouth went dry. The lord and lady of these woods…what should he do? Cast himself unto his knees and beg forgiveness for this betrayal? He felt a gentle probing in his mind, and giving in, he allowed the other to enter his mind. It felt like liquid velvet, and he found himself crying without knowing why.

“Ecthelion of the fountain” a soft voice said. Ecthelion was not even sure if it was said out loud, or in his mind.

He fell to his knees, kneeling in front of the two white elves that he still couldn't see for the blinding aura that surrounded them. “Yes,” he whimpered, “I am he.”

“I remember you,” the soft voice said, and this time Ecthelion was sure it had been said out loud. And one of the white lights stepped down and reached out a hand for him to rise.

Ecthelion looked up, blinking tears out of his eyes. And the blinding light disappeared slowly. Until he saw the she elf in front of him. “Lady Galadriel,” he gasped quickly, casting his gaze back to the floor.

Galadriel laughed a little bubbling laughter. “You need not bow in front of me, lord of the fountain.”

Slowly Ecthelion looked up and met Galadriel’s eyes once more, seeing the other elf joining them. This elf he only knew of by name. He had never laid eyes on the fair elf Celeborn. “Celeborn of Doriath,” he breathed, mesmerised by the elf’s ethereal beauty.

“Rise, Ecthelion, as my dear wife said. You need not bow to us,” Celeborn said softly.

Ecthelion slowly rose to his feet, not knowing what to make of this, keeping a tight hold on the blanket that made it up for his clothing. “I...I am at a loss for words,” he finally whispered.

Galadriel chuckled again. “You grew into a fine elf, little Ecthelion. I am thrilled you were allowed to join us once more.” Ecthelion smiled a timid little smile. He remembered the lady Galadriel fighting with the fury of several male elves, and she had been a sight to behold. Young and powerful, neither he nor Ithildin had ever forgotten her even if they had been but toddlers at the time they had met her. “First we need to find you some decent clothing,” she said, smiling as Ecthelion blushed crimson. “Then we shall talk.”  
_________________________

Later, Ecthelion found himself smelling of roses, and dressed in fine woven clothing. He had marvelled at the fine embroideries that graced the soft fabric. His first notion had been to braid his hair as he normally did, but realised as he stood in front of the mirror that he had lost that right a long time ago. And he just braided it as a loose plait. Taking a deep breath, he walked out of the temporary rooms assigned to him, to meet the lord and lady again. A part of him was happy to be here. This was a beautiful place, but another part of him wished he understood the Valar’s reason for returning him here; it made no sense at all. But he accepted his fate, and his steps gradually became more confident as he walked to the royal talan.

_____________________

Ecthelion emptied his stomach on the floor next to his bed. His nightmare had been vivid. He had felt the sickening feeling of his skin blistering and cracking, he had smelled the burned flesh, and the strange fear and relief mingled as he had made impact with the water, only to find his lungs filled with water. His last thought had been of Eärendil. He wished by the Valar that the child would escape alive. Wiping the vomit from his chin with a trembling hand, he heard a sob rise from deep within. He had not heard anyone enter as he suddenly felt soft hands hold back his hair, as another wave of nausea hit him.

He hardly registered being pulled into a comforting embrace. “Hush,” Galadriel whispered, stroking Ecthelion’s long dark hair. “It is only normal you would feel like this, being trapped as a shadow in Mandos for this long, and now forced to once more become flesh and blood.” Ecthelion heard her soothing voice but only a soft sob would come from his mouth, and Galadriel rested her head on top of his, holding him tightly. “You are once more forced to feel, and remember.”

“Once I loved life,” Ecthelion whispered brokenly. “I really did. But when I lost it, I did not care anymore.”

“Of course you cared,” Galadriel whispered. “Your heroic, unselfish deeds are sung in many a song.”

Ecthelion smiled bitterly. “I was no hero, you saw my mind, you know what I was.” His voice became a whisper, and he broke free of the lady’s embrace, sitting on the bed, wringing his hands in his lap. “I was a coward.”

“You were not,” Galadriel answered, putting a hand on his shoulder to re-establish some bodily contact. “I saw your mind, remember?” when Ecthelion did not answer. “I know what you fear, penneth,” she whispered, and before Ecthelion could answer, Galadriel turned his head so he looked her directly in her eyes. “He is here.”

“Glorfindel?” Ecthelion screeched in alarm. “Why? What?... How?”

Galadriel nodded. “The Valar allowed his rebirth, as we desperately need someone to keep Rivendell safe from harm in the upcoming war.”

“Oh,” Ecthelion breathed with a pitiful voice.

“And you too have some part to play, although the reasons are hidden even to me. But I am sure the Valar did not give you back life lightly. Only a few have received that honour,” she said with a motherly smile.

“I cannot face him,” Ecthelion said, shivering from pent-up fear. “You cannot ask that of me, please milady, I beg you.”

“Be at ease, Ecthelion,” Galadriel said, tucking some hair behind his ear. “I would never ask you to do so, if you are not ready.” Then she looked serious and took Ecthelion’s hand. “But you cannot hide forever.”

“Yes I can,” Ecthelion said desperately.

Galadriel chuckled and shook her head slowly. “Old stories are forgotten, Ecthelion. None are left to remember Gondolin but you and Glorfindel. All that is left are songs, carried through the millennia.”

“Songs?” Ecthelion said, looking confused. “Who ever would sing of me?”

“Many a bard has raised their voice in praise for the undying love between the lord of the golden flower and his confidant.” As Ecthelion still looked lost, Galadriel said, “the lord of the house of the fountain.”

“Ithildin?” Ecthelion said, still puzzled.

“No,” Galadriel laughed. “You!”

“Me? But I was never the lord of... oh by Eru!” Ecthelion’s shoulders slumped. “And I never had any love for Glorfindel. Over the years I learned to care for him, but... “ He blushed crimson again. “Our arrangement was purely... Uhm, physical.”

Galadriel had the decency to sport a little ladylike blush, but then she nodded. “I see, well I am old Ecthelion, and I have seen much. I know songs to be stories, and stories are nothing but alternate truth on paper.”

Ecthelion blinked in disbelief. She had not dismissed him? Made the guards follow him to the borders of the woods? Or worse, cast him in front of his nemesis and told him to keep what was his? “I don’t understand,” he finally whispered.

“Don’t fret, penneth. I have a plan. One that will save your honour as well as give you a little peace,” she said with a smug grin.

Ecthelion found the grin very unsettling, but who was he to disagree with the queen of the Noldor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04 AN: wee the next part. This part is called ‘the darker day of me and him’ and takes place in Lothlorien, and finally I get to have fun with Haldir again, I missed the marchwarden, it’s been so long since I wrote about him. – this is actually two chapters I put together since I felt they were both too short. So this leaves us with 18 chapters in all, and not 19.


	7. The choice is yours, don’t be late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to test Galadriel’s plan as Ecthelion finally faces his nemesis.

_Come as you are_   
_As you were_   
_As I want you to be_   
_As a friend, as a friend_   
_As a known enemy_   
_Take your time_   
_Hurry up_   
_The choice is yours_   
_Don’t be late.._

_Nirvana – Come as you are._

___________________________________________________

 

Standing in front of the mirror, Ecthelion looked at his reflection. He did not even recognize himself, and maybe this ludicrous plan of Galadriel’s would actually work. He absentmindedly started to braid his hair. How he wished that Namo had been more specific in his speech. If only he had known why he had been cast back to life. He felt utterly lost! As Galadriel had said, the songs had praised him as a hero of the sword and of the heart. Ecthelion sighed. Maybe he should just be glad that they did not describe in detail what a traitor he had been. It must have been a minstrel at Turgon’s palace writing this song, trying to do some damage control, or what did he know? The author of these songs was long forgotten.

Looking at the beautiful robes he had been given, sporting the Lorien colours, he smiled. Rumil had been here earlier to inform him that Lord Glorfindel had been informed of his rebirth, and was very thrilled to see him at the feast tonight, a feast in his honour. Ecthelion sighed. He hoped he would be able to pull off this charade. He desperately wished he had known what the Valar wanted from him, but he had no clue, and why had they left him here in Lothlorien? Maybe it could be because the only elf able to help him was Lady Galadriel, but he didn’t quite believe that! There was a reason for him being left here, and it was important, he was just too dim to see it. The Valar never did anything without a reason; they acted out the song of Eru, and so they did what they had to. And now he too was a part of that, except he had no idea what he had to do.

Closing his eyes, he desperately prayed to the Lord of Mandos to come to him, just to give him a clue, so he could live up to the expectations they had, and not let them down. But nothing happened. In the end, Ecthelion opened his eyes again and looked at his own reflection. “How can I prevent myself from failing, when I know not what is expected of me?” he asked with a tiny voice.

Gathering his courage he leaned over to his bedside table and picked up a little black object. Closing his eyes again, he carefully slipped the object into place, opening his eyes again; it was not he, but Ithildin looking back from the mirror. “By Eru!” he gasped. The eye patch was annoying and he fought the urge to rip it off, but he hoped that he would eventually get used to it. He was no longer Ecthelion... he had become Ithildin.

Now Galadriel and Celeborn’s words made sense. They had told Glorfindel that the lord of the fountain had been allowed to come back to life, and Ecthelion knew they would not betray him, and so he knew that Glorfindel would assume he was Ithildin. He sent a prayer of thanks to Galadriel. This plan just had to work! It just had to!

He looked down at his hands that trembled. He had to remind himself that Ithildin and he had done this all the time as elflings, pretending to be the other, and they had never been caught, so why should he fail now? “Thank you for lending me your face, brother,” he whispered to himself, hoping his brother would hear him at the halls, and then he turned and left the room, hurrying to the feast before all courage left him.  
___________________________

The feast was not as terrible he had feared. He was met by Rumil and Orophin who smiled to him, welcoming him warmly. He accepted their embraces but a little nagging voice would not let him rest. Would they have embraced him, had they known what he really was? Another happy voice behind him, and he turned around, seeing Haldir. For a second he was speechless. The silver haired elf might share his genes with his brothers, but he was magnificent! His hair was like liquid silver against his dark blue tunic; for a moment Ecthelion was sure that the brothers’ mother had to have been a star. And as Haldir bowed slightly, saying “my lord,” Ecthelion felt his breath get caught in his throat.

“Haldir, you..” he croaked… “please rise,” and as Haldir straightened up and smiled, Ecthelion found himself blushing. “Those robes are most becoming,” he finally said softly, fingering his sleeve.

“Thank you, my lord,” Haldir said before he chuckled, and this set off his brothers’ into a giggling fit. “I think I preferred you with only my blanket,” Haldir said with a smug grin. Ecthelion blushed to his roots and this made the three brothers laugh even harder. Celeborn had pulled them aside and told them that Ithildin had been bereft of his right eye in his previous life, and even if the Valar had brought him back here without that handicap, Lord Ithildin felt more like himself with the patch, and so they should not question it. They had all agreed to stay silent about this, in respect for the mythical Ecthelion of the fountain’s twin.

Haldir laid his hand on Ecthelion’s shoulder. “There is someone dying to meet you,” he whispered and nodded to his left. As Ecthelion turned, he saw Glorfindel. His knees went weak, and his mouth went dry. The golden lord was still as beautiful as he had been in Gondolin. Age had definitely been kind to the golden elf, Ecthelion thought to himself, and before he knew of it, he was guided by the Lorien brothers to stand in front of his worst nightmare. “Glor..Glorfindel?” he said, bracing himself.

“Ithildin!” Glorfindel exclaimed with a big genuine smile, and warmly embraced Ecthelion. The young lord of the fountain closed his eyes. Glorfindel even still smelled of lavender, and for one terrible moment it felt like they were back in Gondolin, but Glorfindel’s voice shook him out of his strange daydreaming. “I was so happy hearing the news about your rebirth!” He held Ecthelion out from his body and looked him up and down, and for a second Ecthelion almost panicked, thinking his disguise too poor. But suddenly Glorfindel buried him in another tight embrace. “Thank the Valar that you are here, as we are in sore need of seasoned soldiers.”

Ecthelion smiled and said, “I must admit I was indeed very surprised to learn of your rebirth,” and that was absolutely no lie. Ecthelion smiled again at the golden lord. “I never thought I would see you again, my friend.”

Glorfindel smiled wholeheartedly. “Oh Ithildin,” he said softly, “come share a drink with me, and we will talk. I have much to tell you.” Glorfindel hooked his arm with Ecthelion and took him to a nearby table. Once seated with each their drink, Glorfindel smiled again. “I have a confession to make, my friend,” he whispered.

Ecthelion paled, and almost choked on his drink. “You do?”

“Yes,” Glorfindel said, reaching over the table to lay his hand on top of Ecthelion’s. “Ithildin, I must admit that I was both scared and relieved upon hearing of your rebirth.”

“Scared?” Ecthelion repeated like an idiot.

“Aye,” Glorfindel whispered. “I was not sure of what to say, or how to act upon seeing you again.”

“But… but,” Ecthelion stuttered, “you and I never had any personal dealings with each other. I don’t see why you should be nervous to see me.”

“I know,” Glorfindel said and took a sip of his drink. “It is just that you…” the blond elf sighed and a shadow crossed over his fair features. “You remind me so much of Ecthelion, and so…”

Ecthelion laughed nervously. “But my dear Glorfindel, of course I remind you of him; he was my twin.” Seeing that Glorfindel nodded in agreement, Ecthelion decided to take a dive off the deep end, and raised a delicate eyebrow. “Our resemblance were only skin deep.”

“Aye,” Glorfindel said as if he were in thought, and then looked up at Ecthelion. “Ithildin, you have always been an elf of integrity.”

For an insane moment Ecthelion felt like slapping the blond elf in front of him, but he just forced a smile and raised his glass for a toast. Slick, Ecthelion, slick! He thought to himself.

After several glasses of wine, Glorfindel’s tongue had loosened and they exchanged stories. Ecthelion sent Galadriel a friendly thought, as she had been the one to inform him of Ithildin’s ending. His dear twin had been crushed under a collapsing building. Glorfindel was telling about life in Rivendell, and when he talked about his visits in Lorien his eyes lit up. He whispered that he had lost his heart here long ago. For some reason Ecthelion couldn't help but to feel a sting of jealousy, which was of course madness! Why would he feel jealous of whomever this terrible elf had chosen to chase after? What he should feel was compassion for the poor soul who had caught the golden lords eye! But Glorfindel was elusive on this matter; he refused to give a name of his beloved. Ecthelion’s heart sank; this was history repeating itself!

Ecthelion leaned in over the table and smiled sweetly. “One question, and I shall never speak of it again”

Glorfindel looked up and raised a brow, but he still smiled “All right,” he said.

“You refuse to tell me whom captured your heart, so... I will have to guess, and so I need to know two things.” Glorfindel nodded, not realising he was actually answering a question more than he initially had agreed to, and this let Ecthelion to believe that either the elf was really drunk, or he actually wanted him to find out. “Is he or she here?”

Glorfindel nodded.

“Ah,” Ecthelion said with a smile. “And what did you fall in love with?”

“His eyes, his smile,” Glorfindel said with a dreamy look. Ecthelion smiled, it was a ‘he’, no surprise there really. And this information would do him well; he would just have to look for the elf with the most perfect eyes, and most charming smile.   
_______________________________

On his way back to his talan that night, his head reeled. Not just from the amount of alcohol he had consumed, but from trying to sort out his own feelings. Glorfindel had been nice to him, charming even! Had the golden lord really changed that much? Or was it solely because he thought he was Ithildin? He had noticed that Glorfindel all night carefully had guided the conversation away from anything even remotely related to his private life before his rebirth. Ecthelion sighed. He didn’t understand his own thoughts anymore, but he remembered that Namo had said that his memories would be important to his task. “You could have just told me!” he groaned, reaching his bed and collapsing on top of the covers.

Glorfindel had told him that he should travel to Rivendell and see the Last Homely House for himself. Maybe he should, but just the thought of being that close to Glorfindel made his skin crawl. But what if he was supposed to go there? He would have to ask Lady Galadriel what she made of all this, because Ecthelion could not get any more confused than he already was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04 AN: Ah, its time for the fun to begin! This part of the story is sadly completely smutless, but hey I tried everything I could to sneak some smut into this part (the darker day of me and him) but it just wouldn't work darnit! Why do muses always work the complete opposite of what you want?


	8. He’s just a friend a friend of mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ecthelion meets the most beautiful elf he has ever seen, which leads to Galadriel letting him peek in the mirror.

_He said_   
_Baby what’s your name?_   
_Are you new in this town?_   
_Since you walked in things don’t look the same_   
_How about sticking around?_

_Vaya con Dios – Just a friend of mine._

_________________________________________________________

 

The next morning Ecthelion felt oddly fresh. He knew he should have had a worse hangover with all that wine he had had last night, but he found himself looking forward to breakfast, and since his stomach growled, it apparently agreed. Getting out of bed, he saw his own reflection. The eye patch! Where was the eye patch? Oh Eru! What if he had lost it while talking to Glorfindel and never noticed? He spun around and frantically searched the bed, and after some moments of panic, he found it. He had lost it in sleep! Trying to control his breathing, he sat down on the bed. He had to be more careful with this; it would be nothing less than a disaster if he lost it. In the end he calmed himself enough that he could face the other elves he knew would be at the giant breakfast table. If nothing else, Lorien elves seemed to be very social.

Seating himself, he found himself surrounded by elves he had never seen in his life, but they all smiled in a friendly manner. And to his amusement, some even looked his way with longing in their eyes. Ithildin, it was Ithildin they wanted, he grounded himself, and smiled at the elves seated next to him, and therefore Ithildin they would get. It had been so long since he had made light dinner conversation with anyone, and he really tried his hardest, hoping he was amusing and pleasant company. And as breakfast was over, and nobody seemed to be bored with his presence, he figured that he must have done something right. Standing up, he suddenly noticed someone coming towards him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see it was Glorfindel. Oh by the Valar, won’t this elf ever stop torturing me, he thought to himself, but he turned and smiled.

His gaze travelled beyond Glorfindel and rested on the absolutely most magnificent being he had ever laid his eyes on. This elf looked like something out of a fairy-tale for elflings. He looked almost childlike with his large slanted brown eyes, and his long neatly braided plait. Little wayward strands of hair stuck out, making the contrast from the black hair even heavier against the elf’s ivory skin. It looked so soft, almost unreal. Indeed, this had to be one of the Valar. Nothing this exquisite could exist, it was created! “Ithildin?” Glorfindel chuckled, seeing Ecthelion’s lost expression.

He tore his gaze from the black-haired elf behind Glorfindel, and once more focused on the golden lord. “Oh Glorfindel, forgive me,” he said with a disarming smile.

“I see you noticed my friend,” Glorfindel smirked and stepped aside so Ecthelion stood in front of the beautiful raven-haired elf.

“I am Erestor of Lindon,” he said, and extended his hand in greeting.

Ecthelion took the hand, and marvelled that the skin of Erestor's hand was just as smooth as he had imagined. He couldn't remember when he had ever enjoyed a handshake that much! “I am Ithildin,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound too strange. “Ithildin of the house of the fountain. I knew Lord Glorfindel, back in Gondolin,” he gestured to Glorfindel.

Erestor smiled, and Ecthelion swore he saw little dimples. “What a charmingly beautiful old friend you have,” Erestor said to Glorfindel with a grin.

Ecthelion chuckled and smiled. “You should have met my twin, Master Erestor.” It was far-fetched, but something just made him say it, although he regretted it in the second it left his lips.

Glorfindel’s smile faded a little but then he nodded. “Aye, indeed Ecthelion was beauty in perfection, but that only went skin-deep.” He gave Ithildin a little apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I should not have said that.”

“That is in the past,” Ecthelion said calmly, “And whatever he was, he was absolutely not as beautiful as you, Master Erestor.” Oh no! Why had he said that? But seeing a slight blush grace Erestor's cheeks, he knew he had not been out of line.

“I can hardly live up to the mythical beauty of Ecthelion of the fountain,” Erestor said “but I thank you for your kind compliment.”

Glorfindel gathered Erestor’s hand in his and kissed his knuckles gently. “But you do, my friend, you do.” Glorfindel was about to say something more, but was interrupted as a blond elf clad in light blue garments suddenly cleared his throat behind him, and leaned in to whisper something to the golden elf. Both Erestor and Ecthelion just stood and stared, until the blond elf hurried off, and Glorfindel turned to them and smiled apologetically. “The marchwarden has asked for my presence at a strategist meeting. Please excuse me.” And then he too hurried off, leaving Ecthelion and Erestor standing alone.

Ecthelion wished he could say something clever, but all wit avoided him as he looked at Erestor. He might look childlike because of his soft features, but as Ecthelion looked him directly in his eyes, he saw ancient knowledge there. And this just made Ecthelion even more nervous. He was nobody compared to this marvellous creature.

“Lord Ithildin? Why are you wringing your hands?” Erestor asked softly, but as Ecthelion stopped doing that instantly, but didn’t answer, Erestor suddenly understood. “Oh no! Forgive me! I should have known that you are busy.”

Ecthelion was about to say that he was not busy at all, but then again he had to escape this elf before he lost his mind. “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a brilliant smile. “It would please me greatly if you would walk with me to the royal talan.”

Erestor nodded, and as they started to walk towards the royal talan, Erestor told something about himself, being Lord Elrond’s chief advisor, and how much he enjoyed it when he was able to join these short trips to Lorien or Mirkwood. Ecthelion just listened. Just the sound of the other elf’s voice sent shivers down his spine.   
_____________________________

(Three months later)

He had tried to befriend Erestor, as much as he wanted to run and hide from the other elf, just as much as he felt like he would die if he were not close to him. And once the Rivendell party left, Ecthelion was both happy and sad to see them go. He was thrilled that Glorfindel was out of his sight, but he was oddly relieved that Erestor also left. He knew that the beautiful advisor from Rivendell had turned into quite the obsession for him, but he couldn't help himself. Erestor was the reason he bothered brushing his hair in the morning, and the reason for going to large gatherings, because he knew he would be there! And they had had fun, once Ecthelion had gotten past his nervousness; Erestor had even called him ‘my friend’. This made Ecthelion’s little heart beat like mad.

Once they were gone, and Erestor was no longer around, Ecthelion felt an empty void and he knew he had to fill it with something else, so Celeborn had let him join Haldir and his brothers for the next patrol. Ecthelion had been thrilled, at last! Maybe this was something he could do without making a fool of himself! It had been going splendidly, actually, and this night he had been the one chosen to have the first guard. Both Orophin and Haldir slept as Rumil returned with more firewood. “Thank you,” Ecthelion said and smiled at the elf.

“You are very welcome,” Rumil said and smiled back, quickly seating himself next to Ecthelion in front of the fire. “Ithildin?” he asked.

“Yes, my friend,” Ecthelion said, and turned his head to look at Rumil. These three brothers made it hard for him to lie like this. They were so kind to him, as were everyone else in Lorien, but Rumil and his brothers were extraordinary. He wished he could tell them the truth. He tried to tell himself that he stayed silent because of Haldir’s friendship with Glorfindel, but that was not exactly the truth. The truth was maybe that he ‘liked’ being Ithildin.

“I have been wondering…” Rumil said and gnawed on a nail, “the halls, do you remember them?”

Ecthelion blinked rapidly as he tried to fully comprehend the question. “I remember them quite clearly,” he said. “It is not a place you want to be, dear Rumil.” When Rumil’s face darkened, Ecthelion continued, “they are empty, true, you meet the ones you knew once, and get to see ancient souls. But it feels like a stage, Rumil, nothing there is true, the sun, the food, the water... All is fake, put there by Lord Namo to make it easier for the dead to deal with being dead.”

“Oh,” Rumil said, and then he arched a brow. “Did you really see all the ancient kings and so?”

“I did,” Ecthelion said with a vague smile.

“Did you meet the... the... kinslayers?” he said with a hopeful look

“No, Rumil. They are not with the rest of the souls, there are special arrangements for Fëanor and his sons, and no one knows what they might be,” Ecthelion said .“Maybe they are there, maybe none of us ever noticed them, I don’t know.” Upon seeing Rumil’s disappointed face, Ecthelion chuckled softly. “I would have loved to see them too.” After thinking a little, he said, “Celebrimbor is there, I met him.” Smiling a little apologetically, he continued, “he is not exactly a Fëanorian, but close.”

Rumil nodded. “As long as I remember, I always dreamt of meeting the Fëanorians. I don’t know why, they were supposed to be evil and all, but…”

Ecthelion smiled. “I know what you mean, and I am afraid I cannot shed more light upon it. I only met them briefly as a small child, and the only one I remember at all is Fëanor himself.”

“You were born in Valinor?” Rumil said as his jaw hit the floor.

Ecthelion laughed. “Yes, I was, but I remember Valinor even less.” Laying a hand on Rumil’s shoulder, he said ,“you should ask Glorfindel. He might have some answers for you. He is older than me.”

Rumil nodded and after a short while he turned to Ecthelion again. “Ithildin? What was it like being reborn?”

“Confusing,” Ecthelion, said truthfully. “I am afraid that the great lord Namo did not appoint me with some quest upon coming back here, although he did hint that I should figure that one out myself,” the dark-haired elf sighed.

“Maybe you could...” Rumil’s voice faded and he chewed on his lower lip. “Yes!” he then said softly after some thought on the matter. “You could ask the lady Galadriel if you could see into the mirror! That might shed some light on why you are here.”

Ecthelion smiled thankfully to the silver-haired youngster. “That is a brilliant idea, my friend.”  
__________________

When they returned from patrol, Ecthelion had went to Galadriel and Celeborn, asking if he could see into the mirror. Galadriel warned him about using an oracle instead of finding out the truth for himself, but in the end she agreed. Ecthelion was shaking like a leaf as he silently followed the lady to the grove where the mirror was located. Suddenly he was doubting everything. Maybe she had been right warning him about the use of an oracle, but then she came to a standstill and gestured toward the beautiful crafted basin of silver that was the mirror. Leaning in over the edge, he stared at his own reflection in the water. Terrified of what the mirror would choose to show him, he held his breath as the water’s surface started to ripple. Staring as if hypnotized, he saw himself sleeping in the thickening of the wood where Rumil, Orophin and Haldir had stumbled across him. He saw Glorfindel standing in front of him on a bridge with a mighty waterfall below. But behind Glorfindel stood Erestor, whose face suddenly changed, from Erestor to Ecthelion’s own, until it became an emotionless white mask, and then it was suddenly on fire. The dark-haired elf with the mask screamed in agony before he collapsed on the bridge, without Glorfindel moving a muscle. Looking up at Galadriel, Ecthelion cried tears of heartache for the burning elf. “What on earth would that mean?” he whispered.

“I cannot tell, even if I knew,” Galadriel said with a little mystical smile, “but I do think it would be wise for you to travel to Rivendell.”

“Rivendell?” Ecthelion said with a gasp. “Why would I want to go there?”

“What the mirror showed you, was in Rivendell,” Galadriel said calmly. “I think you should search for your purpose there.”

“I think you are right, milady,” Ecthelion said and nodded. “Thank you for letting me see into your mirror. It was a great privilege.”

Galadriel smiled again. “Lord Elrond resides there, and he too has lost his twin. He will know of your heartache. Let him heal you, Ecthelion, for he is a gifted healer.” Ecthelion just nodded again. “Elrond Half-elven is married to my daughter, and she has just borne twin sons. You will do great in Rivendell, my friend.”

“Half-elven?” Ecthelion whispered, searching Galadriel’s eyes for the answer.

She just chuckled and inclined her head. “Elrond is the son of your precious Eärendil.”

“Tuor’s grandson!” Ecthelion said more to himself than to the lady. “Then he was right, his name lives on immortalized by his heirs.”

Galadriel smiled and slowly began to leave the grove, letting Ecthelion stay to sort out his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04 AN: I for one has been looking forward to this chapter - take a wild guess why *smirks* - AND this is the last chapter of this part (the darker day of me and him) and this means it is the last chapter in Lorien. We will run into Haldir again tho’. This part got shorter than intended but my story line was written faster than I had thought, and therefore I had to add chapters to each other and so to make it look like I at least made an effort.


	9. We can pretend it’s alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ecthelion arrives in Rivendell, only to find the aloof advisor even more mystic than he thought. Is history repeating itself?

_I’m not sure of what I should do_   
_When everything I’m thinking of is you_   
_All of my excuses turn to lies_   
_Maybe God will cover up his eyes_

_I know it’s not the right thing_   
_And I know it’s not the good thing_   
_But kinda I want to_

_Nine Inch Nails – Kinda I want to_

_________________________________________________________

 

The journey to Rivendell was absolutely uneventful, and mind numbingly boring since Ecthelion had insisted on going on his own. Upon arriving he had seen the same bridge he had seen in his vision. Galadriel was correct! His vision had taken place here! It could not be a coincidence. Elrond had known he was coming already before he arrived. At first he was taken aback of how much of Tuor was left in Elrond. His eyes! They were the exact same colour as Tuor’s and Eärendil’s. It was really both amazing and frightening, that Tuor had been that right when he had said that his only chance at immortality was heirs. At the time Ecthelion had been unhappy in love and had not been able to understand. He just wanted his beloved to stay by his side and kiss his fears away, but now he understood! Tuor had not lived forever; somehow Ecthelion was a little sad that he didn’t know how his beloved had met his end. He had been told that Elrond had a big library, and he would have to go in search there for a book that could give him the answer. It felt kind of strange to read about people he had known in a history book.

Elrond! What a delight! He was absolutely fantastic, thought Ecthelion. He welcomed him to the household with open arms, just as Galadriel had said he would. Both Erestor and Glorfindel had been absent. Elrond had made some excuses for them, and had introduced his wife instead. Celebrian had been a stunning female. Being the daughter of the fairest of all she elves he had ever seen, how could she not be beautiful? The first thing Ecthelion noticed was that she had inherited her mother’s smile. Oh, he could most definitely understand why Elrond had fallen in love with her.

The trip to Erestor's office had been less delightful, although it had been easy to find. Ecthelion took a deep breath. The size of Erestor’s desk alone was intimidating, but he gathered his courage and stepped into the room, trying his hardest not to flinch as the heavy door closed behind him. Erestor put his pen aside and looked up at him. What had been smiling brown eyes the last time they met, were now the coldest hue of chocolate he had ever seen. “Lord Ithildin,” Erestor said, smiling methodically.

“Master Erestor,” Ecthelion said, trying to keep all disappointment out of his voice. Why should the mirror show him this elf of all elves? He would need a blowtorch to melt the ice that surrounded this beautiful elf. “Lord Elrond sent me here. He said that you would be able to find me suitable accommodations for my stay.”

“Ah,” Erestor said and knitted his eyebrows in thought. “May I ask, for how long will you be staying here at the last homely house, Lord Ithildin?”

“I don’t know, Master Erestor, but the lady sent me here to aid Lord Elrond,” Ecthelion said flatly as he fiddled his sleeve. He could almost hear Ithildin saying, ‘you lie, you always fiddle your sleeve when you lie.’ “It looks like I will be here for a while.”

“I see,” Erestor said, and opened a drawer in the desk and lifted out a heavy red book. He browsed back and forth through the pages for a while, until he finally looked as if he found what he had been searching for. “Here, it is perfect!” he looked up at Ecthelion and this time a genuine smile graced his face. “It has a window to the east.” As Ecthelion just nodded, Erestor continued, “they are rather small, but you will have your own bathroom. I take it you would appreciate that. Is that acceptable?”

“Indeed,” Ecthelion said. He couldn't help but wonder if it was far way from Glorfindel’s rooms, but he did not dare ask Erestor.

Erestor closed the book looking very satisfied with himself. “Your room is the Chanterelle room. Go to the second floor of the south wing, take a left from the staircase and then it’s three doors down.”

Ecthelion must have looked confused, because Erestor couldn't help but smile again as he closed the drawer. “There is a painting of a huge Chanterelle mushroom on the door. You cannot miss it.”

Ecthelion just smiled back, using all his teachings in diplomacy not to look as nervous as this icy elf made him feel. “I will find it, thank you master Erestor.”

“You’re very welcome; it is my job,” Erestor said with a professional smirk. “Do you bring any clothing, or shall I have some sent to your room?”

“I have no belongings with me,” Ecthelion said.

“I see,” Erestor said once more and made a note in a little green book. Placing the quill in the holder again, he looked up at Ecthelion. “Can I help you with anything else, Lord Ithildin?”

“No, Master Erestor, you have done plenty. Thank you,” Ecthelion said in a small voice. “Have a good day. I trust I will see you around.”

“And a nice day to you too, Lord Ithildin,” Erestor said and turned back to the scroll. Ecthelion figured he was dismissed, and left the chief advisor’s office.   
____________________

Eventually Ecthelion found the Chanterelle room, quickly learning that Erestor was in the Oak room, also in the south wing. Glorfindel was luckily not even located in fungus or plants, but lived way over in the north wing, in the Blue Jay room. Elrond and his family had different kinds of butterflies. Ecthelion didn’t know what they were, just that they had an entire floor in the east wing of the main house. True, the Chanterelle room was small, but it was really perfect for him, he didn’t need a large room to be content, with fountains in the bathroom or whatever decadent madness other elves would surround themselves with. It had what he needed, nothing more, nothing less. A servant had brought him three sets of tunics and pants, and three robes, all in brown and red colours.

He had stayed for a month in Rivendell now, and even if Erestor shied away from him like a diseased animal, and Glorfindel didn’t seem all too thrilled about having him around, they were both actually pretty civil about it. Lord Elrond seemed to enjoy having him around, and so did Lady Celebrian. She had turned out to be quite the cunning chess player, something Ecthelion had never thought she would have known. Where he was from, strategic games like that were unladylike. And the little babies, they were priceless, still wee ones they would just lie on their backs and drool, but Ecthelion found them absolutely adoring, stunned to see those deep grey eyes of Tuor on them as well.

This night he was not able to sleep, and had decided to go for a ride on his horse. It did him little to pace the room, and he was not in the mood to eat. But as he neared the stables he heard raised voices. Pulling the hood up on his cloak he hid in the shadows. It had not been his intent to listen, but when he saw that Erestor was there, having a heated discussion with Glorfindel, his curiosity was piqued.

Glorfindel stood with a firm grip on Erestor’s upper arms and Erestor stood perfectly still, just glaring at the golden elf. “I am warning you, Erestor,” Glorfindel said, looking deeply troubled.

“Don’t bother, Glorfindel,” Erestor said coldly.

“I know you, Erestor, and I am telling you to stay clear,” Glorfindel insisted.

“How dare you? You know nothing of me!” Erestor said slowly raising his voice until he cried. “Nothing!”

“What will it take for you to listen to me? That I threaten you with going to Lord Elrond?” Glorfindel hissed, but let go of the raven-haired elf.

“Get out of my sight,” Erestor said calmly.

“Erestor, listen to me,” Glorfindel said, imploring the other elf.

“Did you not hear me? Get out of my sight!” Erestor growled.

“Fine! But I won’t offer you this again,” Glorfindel said as he spun around, leaving the stable with swift steps.

Erestor slumped down in a large pile of hay, breathing heavily before he suddenly started to cry softly, slamming his fists down into the soft hay. Taking a dive into the deep end, Ecthelion walked over and sat down in the hay pile next to Erestor. He pulled his hood down and smiled companionably. “I couldn't sleep and went to get my horse for a midnight ride. I couldn't avoid hearing you and Lord Glorfindel argue. Forgive me, I did not intend on eavesdrop, but... are you all right, Master Erestor?”

Erestor laughed through his tears. “Don’t bother with titles when I have a hysterical fit in a pile of hay at some ungodly hour of the night!” Wiping his tears away with his sleeve, he turned his head and looked at Ecthelion. “I am fine, Ithildin, thank you for being concerned. It was just a difference of opinions.”

“He has not changed since I knew him,” Ecthelion said softly. “He is not worth your tears, fair Erestor.”

“I know, but I can’t help it,” Erestor said with a sad smile. “He can just be so frustrating.” Ecthelion nodded and Erestor reached up and took Ecthelion’s hand, squeezing it tightly before he let it go. “Will you promise me not to tell anyone about this?” he whispered.

“I promise,” Ecthelion said.

After some moments in silence, where Ecthelion had to control himself not to wrap his arms around the distressed Erestor, the fair elf suddenly spoke. “Ithildin? Did your brother really love Glorfindel as much as the legend say?”

Ecthelion smiled sadly. “No,” he admitted in a small voice. “Ecthelion loved another, a mortal man. But I guess he had a small space in his heart for Glorfindel, in some strange way.”

“Strange how time distorts everything, isn’t it?” Erestor whispered.

“Aye,” Ecthelion said, before they both stopped talking and just rested in the pile of hay in silence, until they finally got up and went their own ways.  
______________________________________

For the next three weeks Glorfindel would be on patrol, and Ecthelion figured that he should really seek out Erestor, thinking that he might want company. With Glorfindel around he was too courteous to engage in conversation with Erestor too much, but now with the blond gone, he could seek the fair elf out, and no harm would come from it. He had quickly learned where Erestor’s chambers were. They were located on the top floor of the south wing, down at the very end of the corridor. For some reason this struck Ecthelion as sad, that Erestor would hide himself away like that.

Coming to a standstill in front of the Oak room, he studied the strange crippled oak painted on the door. He couldn't understand why someone would portray an oak like this. It looked sick and twisted somehow, evil perhaps. Most strange! He was about to knock on the door when he noticed it was ajar. Peering inside he saw Erestor sitting cross-legged in the doorway of his balcony, looking out at the stars, slowly plucking the lyre, making the most hauntingly beautiful melody. Pushing the door open a little more, he still studied Erestor in the moonlight. His naked torso was filled with scars, and they almost looked as if they were planted there on purpose in a pattern. Realising that Erestor must have seen many hard battles, he knitted his eyebrows. Erestor didn’t strike him as a warrior, and hearing the absolutely beautiful music that flowed from under his fingertips, the softly whispered song… no, Erestor was not a warrior at heart, just like Ecthelion himself had never been.

Erestor sensed a presence in his room and turned around. Seeing Ecthelion in the door, Erestor blushed slightly. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough, Master Erestor,” Ecthelion said with a little grin. “You play beautifully, and your voice is absolutely exquisite.”

“Thank you,” Erestor mumbled as he rose, tossing the lyre on his bed. “Care for a drink? Since you made it all the way up here.”

“Yes, thank you,” Ecthelion said.

He sat down and smiled as Erestor sat down opposite him in a soft chair. “Ithildin, I owe you an apology for the other night. I did not intend to make such a fool out of myself, and especially not in front of someone else. I should not have lost my temper like that in the stables.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Ecthelion said as he sipped his drink, observing Erestor. He looked so much different like this, scarred and with his hair loose. He looked somehow more feral, and dangerous. “The way I see it, you were quite entitled to lose your temper with Glorfindel.”

“Ithildin,” Erestor said with a smile, “if you cannot sleep either this night, might I interest you with a board game? It seems so much easier to pass time, when you are not alone.”

“Certainly,” Ecthelion said, watching as Erestor found an old worn chess set.

They passed the night playing chess in silence, and even if Ecthelion had wanted to speak with Erestor, this silence was comforting somehow. And he promised himself that he would be back tomorrow night, and the one after that, until Glorfindel returned and he would have to give up his budding friendship with the beautiful advisor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04 AN: this is the first chapter in the part of this story called ‘Heartland’ although both this part and the next and last parts take place in Rivendell. And oh yes! I should warn and warn again! This is the part where the fun really begins, and also where we get around to the Mpreg thing!


	10. Our tragedy plays out like a symphony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late night visit with Erestor proves to be really informative, but this just leaves Ecthelion even more puzzled.

_Your eyes they often lie_   
_And leave me feeling misunderstood_   
_Our tragedy plays out like a symphony_   
_A breath and a whisper are your clues_

_I don’t need sympathy_   
_Or your apologies_   
_Why don’t you understand?_   
_The face you see_   
_Well it belongs to me_   
_And I’m doing the best I can_   
_Just to make you smile._

_The Crüxshadows – Heart on my sleeve._

______________________________________________________________

 

Whistling to himself, Ecthelion made his way to Erestor's rooms again. He had enjoyed the late night chess game, even if he had been so tired the next day that a rookie soldier had dealt him what would have been a lethal blow had the sword not been wooden. Then it had all been worth it, and now he looked forward to spending some time with Erestor again. It seemed that the night was their time. During the day they were each in their own world, and hardly spoke, but during the night they were friends.

Ecthelion knocked at the door with the twisted oak sign, but no answer came. Maybe Erestor was not in. Ecthelion waited for several moments before he knocked again, and just as he decided that Erestor was indeed not in, a weak ‘enter’ was heard. Ecthelion stepped into the dimly lit room, finding Erestor sitting in his chair with a bottle of strong wine. The beautiful elf looked up, and something that resembled a smile crossed his face. “Ithildin,” he said.

“Erestor,” Ecthelion said as he sat down across from the advisor, studying him. He could see that the large brown eyes were sad and red from crying. His gaze travelled to the almost empty bottle in Erestor's hand. He was drunk! “Maybe... uhm... maybe I should come back another evening,” he said with a smile.

Erestor just smiled sadly. “Maybe you should.” Taking the last liquid from the bottle in a gulp, he stood to get a new one. “I fear I am not much of a companion tonight,” he mumbled, and when Ecthelion stood to leave, Erestor turned with the bottle in his hand. “Have a drink with me?” he whispered.

Ecthelion nodded. He could hear the loneliness in the other elf’s voice. Whatever brought this on, he didn’t know, but he was sure that Erestor didn’t want to be alone, even if he pretended he did. Pretence... wasn’t that one of Ecthelion’s greatest skills? And for a second he felt like an intruder, a liar, as if he were not even worthy of this stunning black haired elf’s company.

Erestor poured some wine in a glass and handed it to Ecthelion, while he took a gulp from the bottle as he sat down. “No matter what you think about the argument in the stables the other night,” he said, looking away from Ecthelion and out on the starlit sky, “Glorfindel does not love me. Please don’t think that I trespassed on your twin’s territory.”

“Ecthelion did not love Glorfindel, I told you that.” Ecthelion said knitting his eyebrows. What was all this about? Why would Erestor say something like this?

Erestor nodded. “You did, you said he loved a mortal.” Taking a sip of the bottle without looking at Ecthelion, he said “Whom?”

“Does it matter?” Ecthelion said. He was not much for admitting, not because he was not proud of the love they had shared, but because he was afraid to say something that would make Tuor stand out in a bad light.

“No, not really,” Erestor sighed. “Everyone is entitled to their secrets, I suppose.” Still not looking at Ecthelion, Erestor ran a hand through his hair. “You are right in your assumptions, though, he does visit my bed at night.”

“Erestor, please don’t think I would think less of you for being Glorfindel's lover,” Ecthelion said, taking a sip of his own drink, glad that Erestor looked away from him, because then he wouldn't notice how much his hands trembled.

“Lover,” Erestor said in a bitter tone. “I am not his lover, I am his self-proclaimed twisted charity case.”

“But Erestor, why do you stay? You are a very fair elf. I am sure that should you wish it, many an elf would be ready to replace him in your bed,” Ecthelion said softly, knowing he was out of line, but he knew of fear and sadness mingled in one big tangled web, messing you up until you could not escape your fate even should you want to.

“I don’t need lovers,” Erestor laughed hollowly. “Love has always been my downfall. My heart is jinxed.”

Now Ecthelion reached over the armrest of the chair and gathered Erestor’s soft hands in his own. “Don’t say so,” he whispered, awe-struck as Erestor for the first time turned his head and looked at him. For some reason the sorrow in his features made him even more beautiful, as if he were something out of a poem.

Taking a shuddering breath, Erestor placed his other hand on top of Ecthelion’s. “You are a good friend, Ithildin,” he whispered.

Smiling, Ecthelion squeezed Erestor's hand. “I try,” he said, trying to lighten the other elf’s mood. All he knew was that this lost soul, the advisor of Elrond, was the reason for his return to Middle-earth, even if he could not understand why. Maybe he was to soothe him until he healed? Or maybe Erestor also heard the calling of the sea? Were they to travel to the Grey Havens?

Oblivious to Ecthelion’s inner struggle, Erestor turned his face away again. “Did you ever love somebody so much your soul ached, Ithildin?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Ecthelion whispered back.

“I am old, Ithildin. My heart aches to see Tirion once more. You saw Valinor yourself, how can you resist its beauty?” Erestor whispered. “I have lived without love for so long I cannot even remember how it felt.” Ecthelion stayed silent and just listened, gathering that Erestor was drunk and needed to get something off his chest. “Once I was young, full of love, hope and song,” Erestor smiled sadly. “It all died with him.”

When Erestor didn’t say more, Ecthelion whispered, “Why did he die?”

Erestor laughed bitterly once more. “Madness drove him to it; he couldn't live with what he had done for a cause lost from the beginning. He had doomed himself, and my love was not enough for him to stay.” Erestor let go of Ecthelion’s hand and reached out for the bottle, taking a giant gulp. “He didn’t even kiss me, he just looked at me with big questioning eyes, as I saw the pain and terror eating him from within, before...” Erestor took a deep breath, “before he cast himself into the fiery chasm.” Tears welled up in Erestor's eyes as he spoke. “He finally understood, right at that moment he knew that he had been born only to die, his whole existence had led to this moment.”

“Maedhros,” Ecthelion gasped softly. “The first born of Fëanor.” That was a surprise if nothing else. He must have stared at Erestor as if he had suddenly grown an extra arm or something. He had learned of the cursed gem’s end in Elrond’s library. At this moment he was a little sad that he had not been elder when they had left Tirion. Then he might have remembered Maedhros and would have been able to offer some consolation.

“Maedhros,” Erestor whispered. “You should have met him. You would have liked him, Ithildin.”

“As a child,” Ecthelion said, “I often dreamt of joining the Fëanorians in battle, fighting evil and...” blushing slightly, “yes, I would have liked to have met Maedhros.”

Erestor chuckled, amused. “Fighting evil, huh?” He turned his head and looked directly at Ecthelion.

Wide-eyed as a child, Ecthelion whispered, “Did you fight at his side?” That would explain all the battle wounds that Erestor had on his torso.

Erestor smiled and reached for the bottle once more. “I did, Ithildin, I did.” Taking a large gulp again, he handed the bottle to Ecthelion who had long ago emptied his glass, and he too took a swag from the bottle. “Maedhros loved like he fought.” A dirty little grin settled on Erestor’s lips. “With all of his being, and without compromise.”

“Sounds like he was a magnificent elf,” Ecthelion whispered, clutching the bottle. “You are perhaps right, one shouldn’t believe all one reads in history books.”

Erestor just nodded in agreement. “I remember when I suddenly realised my fascination had become love.” Standing up, Erestor moved to the balcony door and leaned on the glass, looking out at the night garden. “I told him I loved him, and he hushed me, he hushed me, Ithildin,” shaking his head slowly, “but I knew he loved me too.” Ecthelion sat still as a statue, just watching Erestor, who slowly begun to cry all over again. His shoulders shook from his repressed sobs. “He had been badly wounded. I sat by his sick bed day and night, and as he woke he looked up at me with those beautiful emerald eyes, and asked me what I was doing there.” Erestor sighed. “He was so afraid of being loved, but I was not afraid to love him.”

“I really wish I could have met him,” Ecthelion whispered.

“You did not meet him in the dark halls?” Erestor suddenly asked.

“No, the kinslayers are hidden,” Ecthelion said, realising what he had said and clasped a hand in front of his mouth. “Forgive me,” he whispered.

“That was what he was,” Erestor said as he turned around and looked at Ecthelion. “But he was so much more, why do the Valar need to punish him more than they already have?”

“I do not know,” Ecthelion whispered. “The Valar are very vague in their reasoning, at best.” Looking up at Erestor, he noticed the other elf looked fatigued. “You should lie down.” Erestor grabbed the bottle and went to his bed and flopped down on the mattress. He patted the space next to him, inviting Ecthelion to come and sit. “Erestor, may I ask you a question?”

“Yes,” Erestor yawned.

“Why tonight? What happened on this day that saddens you so?” Ecthelion said as he sat down on the mattress, fighting the urge to caress the long raven hair that looked soft as silk, spilling down over the other elf’s shoulder and onto the bedspread.

“No reason,” Erestor lied. Ecthelion could read the blatant lie in the brown eyes, but he was apparently not ready to tell him yet.

“Do you want me to stay until you are asleep?” Ecthelion said, looking at the emotionally drained elf.

Erestor nodded and closed his eyes and as Ecthelion started to sing softly, a smile spread on his face. “You are a good friend, Ithildin,” he mumbled, half asleep.

When the song finished, Erestor was sound asleep, snoring lightly. Ecthelion reached out and ran his hand over the silken hair. It felt just as divine as he thought it would. “You are a mystery, Erestor,” he whispered, reluctantly standing up to leave the room. At that moment he would have given everything to be able to spoon up behind the fragile looking sleeping elf, but that would be taking liberties with their friendship. So he just turned and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.  
\--------------------------

Ecthelion stood on his balcony and watched the first snow fall silently onto the plants in Elrond’s garden. It was the first day of snow this year and somehow this time of year always made him melancholy. he remember standing like this, waiting, night after night, and if he closed his eyes he could fool himself thousands of years back. A smile crept to his lips, thinking of Tuor’s large eyes full of wonder and lust as he had made his way to the balcony. Once, that had been enough for them, and standing there inhaling the frost in the air, the dark haired elf couldn't remember a time in his life where he had felt more content.

Erestor! The advisor had invaded his dreams, both those he had at night and in the daytime. The raven black silk tresses had haunted him ever since he had been so bold as to touch them. A shiver went down his spine thinking if it. Touching his hair was just not enough! He knew he was deluding himself, but he still entertained that fantasy. Everything suddenly seemed so big and frightening, ever since his rebirth he had lived a lie. This was reason enough to bury his tedious urges. He could never even hope to court Erestor as long as he pretended to be someone he was not. He felt a little sorry for all the elves that had tried to befriend him…Elrond and Celebrian for letting him into their household, letting him hold the babies. If they only knew what he did, he had thought it easier to be Ithildin than Ecthelion. Now he knew he was wrong. It was getting harder and harder for him to fool all these elves. They were kind and good hearted. His heart would not bear it, if Elrond knew the truth. What if Glorfindel told him? Had Ecthelion had his way, had he followed his heart, then Eärendil would never have been born, and Elrond would never have existed. This thought seemed almost too absurd. And had it not been for Glorfindel pressuring him, he didn’t ever dare to guess the outcome. What if Tuor had indeed chosen to be with him? What if Ecthelion had persuaded his beloved that his own love were enough? Ecthelion blushed under his own line of thoughts. He knew he would have bargained with everything he had, he would have driven the poor mortal man out of his mind with desire if he had been able to. He would have done everything, obeyed every whim from Tuor to keep him at his side. Maybe it was in reality a good thing that Glorfindel had meddled before he had destroyed Tuor and Idril’s marriage. That was what he was, skilled in the arts of copulation. No, he could never tell them who he was. He had to remain Ithildin until he was allowed to die a second death. Really, he should stop thinking impure thoughts about Erestor. It would lead to no good, maybe a repetition of his previous mistakes... He had heard Erestor weep over his lost lover, and honestly how could he ever fill the void left by the firstborn son of Fëanor? He was not a worthy lover of Erestor to begin with. He would only taint the elf’s bed, make a mockery out of true love, and lose himself in the process. But still that silky soft hair came back into his mind, taking away all reason and logic. The truth was that his entire being burned with pent-up desire to touch Erestor.

He heard the door open behind him. Grabbing the cold rail of the balcony, he could almost hear Ithildin’s worried voice. ‘Come inside, are you mad brother? You worry me Ecthelion.’ But the voice he heard behind him was not Ithildin’s.

“Waiting for someone?”

Ecthelion laughed bitterly. “No.” Inhaling the crisp frost air, he bowed his head, obscuring his face in a curtain of dark brown hair. “Erestor,” he whispered, shutting his eyes hard. What was the point of his return to Middle-earth, if all he did was to feel lonely? Was this the Valar’s sophisticated form of a punishment?

He could hear Erestor move through the room, and enter the balcony. With a soft sigh, the other elf came to a standstill next to him and stared up in the starlit sky. “The stars have always looked like this, odd really.” Ecthelion just nodded, and then suddenly he could feel Erestor tense, before he asked the strangest question. “Ithildin? Were you born in Valinor?”

“I was, yes,” Ecthelion said. “My mother joined other family and friends to travel across Helkaraxë. My twin brother and I were very young, and honestly then I don’t remember much of it. The biggest event in my life, and I don’t remember.”

“Oh,” Erestor sighed. “What happened to your family, did they survive?”

“My father died, but me, my mother and my twin made it over. She left for Valinor again after my brother and I reached majority.” Ecthelion smiled sadly. “Then it was only me and my brother left.” In an unguarded moment he had almost said, ‘Ithildin and I,’ but as he turned and looked at Erestor he whispered, “funny that I survived all that, only to be killed by a collapsing building.. Ironic, really.”

Erestor turned to look at him with a crooked smile on his lips. “Life is full of irony, my friend.”

Ecthelion looked up into Erestor's deep brown eyes. They looked sad and nervous at the same time. He had never seen this odd look on his friend before. “Erestor? Is something wrong?” Ecthelion whispered. With a trembling hand, Ecthelion tucked some wayward strands of Erestor’s hair behind his ear, running his fingertips gently over the elder elf’s cheek. “You should braid your hair, Erestor,” he whispered tenderly.

Erestor was cross-eyed from looking into the younger elf’s eyes, trying to figure out what was happening. He didn’t understand it, but he liked it very much, closing his eyes in bliss as Ecthelion rested the palm of his hand on his cheek. “Tell me, fair Ithildin, have you ever done something you knew was really wrong? But you wanted to do it anyway,” Erestor whispered.

“I have,” Ecthelion breathed shallowly. Leaning in slowly, watching Erestor's eyes grow big with wonder and disbelief, he tenderly brushed his lips against Erestor's, and a sigh escaped him. They felt just as incredibly soft as he thought they would. Running his hand around Erestor's neck, he pulled the taller elf in and held him in a firm hold, closing his eyes as he ran the tip of his tongue across Erestor's lower lip. It tasted of elderberry wine, and he thought that Erestor might have had a glass before coming here. Easily deepening the kiss, he was surprised to find Erestor so co-operative. Melting under his lips, unable to hide his desire as his tongue met Erestor’s, he heard his own pitiful whimper.

Gently Erestor pushed Ecthelion away, looking deeply troubled. Ecthelion looked up at his worried face. “Erestor?” he whispered.

Erestor hung his head and mumbled, “I am sorry, I can’t.”

Oh no! He had done it again! Ecthelion wished for nothing else than for the ground to swallow him up. He had misinterpreted Erestor. Tears welled up in his eyes. He was not ready to leave Rivendell, and his heart could not bear that Erestor should look at him with ice in his gaze again. “Forgive me, master Erestor,” he whispered with a tiny voice. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“Ithildin,” Erestor said softly, looking down at the other elf.

But Ecthelion cut him off. “There is no excuse for my mistake, and please believe me that I regret forcing myself on you.” Big fat tears rolled down his cheeks as Erestor said nothing. “I beg you not to report this to Lord Elrond.”

Erestor blinked, confused, and then reached out and wiped a tear from Ecthelion’s cheek. “I enjoyed kissing you,” he said with a sad smile. “Maybe too much.”

Ecthelion closed his eyes and nodded. He understood. Even when he pretended to be his twin, his body revealed him; he would never be anything but a tempter, impure in body and mind. He was a seducer, not someone you would want to have as an official lover. But right in this moment he did not care, he just wanted to taste Erestor’s sweet lips again. A faint echo screamed in his mind that it was this way of thinking that had gotten him in trouble to begin with. But Ecthelion ignored it. “Don’t make excuses for my improper behaviour, master Erestor,” he whispered.

“Ithil...” Erestor said, but Ecthelion cut him off. “Please leave,” he said with a pained voice.

Erestor nodded and turned to leave. Ecthelion stood with his eyes closed on the balcony, trying to control his breathing, trying to have just some degree of dignity. He didn’t see Erestor turn and look at him with a longing gaze before he left and closed the heavy wooden door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04 AN: OK, decided to put two short chapters together as one again. So now were suddenly down to 17 chapters in all.


	11. Do you know what it means to love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erestor gives Ecthelion an apology that is long overdue.

_I’ll always be_   
_Hunting high and low_   
_Only for you_   
_Watch me tearing myself to pieces._

_Hunting high and low_   
_There is no end_   
_To the lengths I’ll go_   
_For you I’ll be_   
_Hunting high and low._

_Aha – Hunting high and low._

________________________________________________

 

(Six months later)

The first signs of spring were in the air. Erestor could smell it; everything was about to burst with life, everything but him. Ithildin’s tear filled face kept returning to him, maybe he had been wrong; maybe denying the attraction had been stupid. He had not meant to hurt Ithildin; he had just thought it best if it died there. Ithildin was a very beautiful elf, both on the outside and inside; he had been the first one to even remotely spark an interest within his heart since Maedhros had succumbed to madness. He had felt the attraction from the very first time he had seen the other elf in Lorien. He had heard songs written as an ode to Ecthelion of the Fountain’s beauty, but he was sure that Ithildin was every bit as beautiful, even with his eye patch. Erestor had tried to withstand the feeling that had stirred deep within him; he really owed Ithildin an apology for his childish behaviour that night. He should not have run off like some frightened maid. He had wanted it just as much, thinking of it, what had possessed him to come to Ithildin’s rooms to begin with?

Seeing a light flicker in the library, Erestor tiptoed over there and pushed the door open silently. He saw Ecthelion sitting in the windowsill, mumbling to himself. Erestor could see him run his fingers over a page in a thick book, but he couldn't quite make out what book it was, and the picture was obscured.

Taking a sip of a glass of wine that he had beside him, Ecthelion sighed and looked at the drawing in the book. The artist who had done this was worthy of praise. He had absolutely no difficulty seeing what it was supposed to be, running his fingers over Tuor standing besides Idril and Turgon, holding baby Eärendil. He felt tears sting in his eyes. “You were right, my love,” he whispered; as if the picture answer him. “I wish you were here to see your family.”

Taking another sip of his wine, he smiled to himself. “Little Eärendil, your son, grew up fine, oh how I wish I had known you, penneth.” Wiping his tears with his sleeve, he bit his lip. When he had first found this book, it had been in the middle of the day and the library had been buzzing with activity, and he had to remember its place so he could come back and read it when he was alone. He was glad to learn that Idril and Tuor had sailed west; maybe some day he would see them again. He had read the book of Gondolin’s fall with rising dread. He had not known that Maeglin was the reason for the betrayal.

Reading about himself made him blush, he remembered the whole ordeal a bit different and less heroic than portrayed in this book, still puzzled that no one mentioned Ithildin anywhere, but called him, Ecthelion, the Lord of the House of the Fountain. That was a lie! He had never been the lord of anything than denial. He had learned from other souls what had happened when he died, but reading it in a history book gave him the creeps. He remembered the feeling of his flesh burning, cracking and blistering, until the pain threatened to drive him insane, and then the cold water. At first he had welcomed the cooling sensation. His damned armour! It had been his bane, weighing him down until he drowned. The pure irony if it was laughable! Wasn’t that what Erestor had said? ‘Life is full of irony’.

Returning to the picture in the book, he smiled bitterly to himself, “I wish you were here,” he whispered.

Erestor slowly walked into the room, and stood still next to Ecthelion in the window. Now he could see it was a picture of the royal family of Gondolin, of course! He had never really thought about it, but Ithildin being a lord would have had dealings with the royal house.

Ecthelion looked up, right into Erestor's concerned brown eyes.

The raven-haired elf leaned in and kissed Ecthelion on his forehead tenderly. “I know everything about feeling forgotten, heartbroken and lost,” he whispered against the soft skin of the other elf. Withdrawing from the sudden caress, Erestor looked down at Ecthelion and bestowed him with a feather light caress on his cheek “I can kiss your sorrows away,” he whispered with a strange, sad, yet seductive tone.

Ecthelion knitted his brows at first, not sure what to make of this. Searching Erestor's eyes, he found the offer to be sincere, and so he reached up with both his hands and gently dragged Erestor down and kissed him. “Yes, make my torment end,” he whispered against the raven haired elf’s lips, so caught up in what the other elf offered so freely that he did not even notice the book slipping from his lap and hitting the floor with a soft ‘thud’.

Erestor broke the kiss and pulled Ecthelion to his feet. “Come, this is no place for us,” he whispered, smiling mischievously as he grabbed Ecthelion’s hand and hurried out through the corridors and stairs of the sleeping house, until they came to his room. Pulling Ecthelion inside, Erestor finally released the insane giggle that had been threatening to sound out loud for the entire trip up there.

Ecthelion joined into the breathless giggle, finding this situation most absurd to begin with. But as Erestor suddenly slammed him up against the door, having a firm grip on his hands over his head flat against the door, his amusement gave way to arousal again. Erestor still smiled. “It is good to see you smile. You should do that more often; it suits you,” he whispered. Using the hand he was not holding Ecthelion’s wrists with, he ran it up the dark haired elf’s thigh until he cupped Ecthelion’s erection which threatened to rip the fabric of his leggings, and Erestor did something that almost drove Ecthelion mad with desire -- he purred.

Closing his eyes, he tilted his head, leaving more space for those luscious lips to explore his neck and jaw. Erestor kept kissing and licking Ecthelion’s sensitive skin, rubbing himself suggestively against the other elf, pinning Ecthelion between himself and the door.

Soon the only thing holding Ecthelion on his feet was Erestor's grip on his wrists. “Have me,” Ecthelion panted. “Right here, right now.”

Erestor’s pupils dilated hearing the wanton plea. He kissed his way up to Ecthelion’s ear. “Against the door?” he breathed.

“Yes.”

“Without any preparation?” Erestor whispered, licking Ecthelion’s delicate pointed ear.

“Yes.”

Helplessly moaning into the other elf’s ear, Erestor whispered, “turn around, beautiful.”

Feeling the pressure on his wrists disappear, Ecthelion turned with the grace of a ballet dancer, facing the door, letting Erestor help him step out of his leggings, freeing his need. Standing up straight for a moment, he pulled the tunic over his head, and resumed his position against the door. Smiling as he felt Erestor's soft, warm skin against his, purring as he felt the other elf’s erection rub between his cheeks, feeling sweaty hands spreading them none too carefully, Ecthelion bit his lip in expectation, whimpering in need, pushing down against Erestor as he felt the other elf’s blunt head of his erection nudge against his guardian muscle. He needed this now!

Erestor wavered. He was not sure if he would hurt Ecthelion, but the elf had asked him to do it like this. Admittedly he had never done it like this before, never had anyone wanted him to take them like this, but he had had this done to himself hundreds of times, so he was sure he could manage this task, knowing exactly what it was Ecthelion wanted; he wanted that perfect blend of pain and pleasure when someone invaded you in one thrust angled right. Biting his lip, he reached to his right and grabbed some hair oil and poured it on his own member. At least it would ease his passing so he could do it in one thrust.

Ecthelion bit his arm hard enough to draw blood. He tasted the coppery taste in his mouth as Erestor sheathed himself in one perfectly angled thrust, rubbing Ecthelion’s prostate. The dark haired elf opened his eyes just as Erestor slammed his hand against the door next to his face, holding his balance. It felt delirious, this was surely not the first time Erestor had done this. He was just as talented with his body as he was beautiful, and a nagging little voice told Ecthelion that this brilliant shining elf must have a hidden agenda for this, but all thoughts fled soon, as soon as Erestor set a fast, hard and maddening pace, ensuring that they would both finish too soon.

Feeling his own orgasm slowly build, Erestor reached around Ecthelion’s waist and grabbed hold of the other elf’s engorged member, stroking it with long even strokes. He closed his eyes, whimpering as sweat sprung out of every pore on his body, trying to stand the distance, pleasuring Ecthelion. As he felt the other elf’s body tremble under his, he tried to whisper but it came out more like a grunt. “Come for me.”

Hearing those words was Ecthelion’s undoing, climaxing with a ferocity he didn’t even know he possessed. He vaguely registered Erestor's pitiful moans in his ear a second before he felt the warm essence fill him inside.

Neither of them moved for the longest time. Erestor had wrapped his arms around Ecthelion, and the dark haired elf felt Erestor's rapidly beating heart against his back. He felt Erestor's now lax member slide out from within him, leaving him a sense of loss. “By Eru,” Erestor whispered, and Ecthelion could feel the beautiful elf’s lips curl up in a smile against his shoulder. “Join me for a bath?”

Ecthelion nodded and just followed Erestor as he walked out into the bathroom. The bathroom was done in dark wood, with an impressive mosaic in the form of the two trees of Valinor imbedded in a round window. Ecthelion had not even noticed he had been staring until Erestor shook him from his musings. “Ithildin?”

Blinking confused, he suddenly remembered where he was, and smiled down at the elf in the bath. Letting himself slide down in the warm water opposite Erestor, he found he was even more impressed with Erestor's ethereal beauty now than he had been before. This elf was really bewitching. Running his foot gently up Erestor’s inner thigh, encountering his groin, he elicited a soft gasp and a chuckle from Erestor. “Naughty, naughty.”

Ecthelion grinned a wicked grin but removed his foot from Erestor's groin, leaned back against the tub and closed his eyes in reverie.

“Did I hurt you?” Erestor asked, sounding like he had given this a lot of thought. “I really didn’t mean to.”

“Nuh uh” Ecthelion said and shook his head, slowly opening his eyes. He looked directly at the alluring advisor. “I like it like that.”

Erestor just smiled, but didn’t care to indulge Ecthelion further in his own preferences. “Ithildin? I really miss playing chess with you.”

Chess? Why on earth would that insane elf discuss chess in this moment? “I dreamt of this, after many a chess game,” Ecthelion said with a naughty grin.

“I mean it,” Erestor said, and something in his eyes told Ecthelion that the magical moment was over, those brown eyes looking back at him were haunted and cold once more.

“I do too,” Ecthelion said. Probing his brain for things to say, he had thought everything perfect until moments ago, now he was suddenly filled with doubt and uncertainty.

Erestor got up from the tub, and stalked over to fetch a towel for Ecthelion. The dark haired elf looked at the soft pale perfect skin that moved across Erestor's muscles. He was a warrior, no doubt about it. How could he ever have been fooled to believe Erestor a scholar? “Here,” he said, “you should get up and dry yourself before you turn into a prune.”

Ecthelion got up from the tub, and took the towel that was presented to him. All gentleness was gone from Erestor's voice, all tenderness from his touch, and all sensuality from his moves. This was master Erestor, Elrond’s chief advisor, not the feral elf who had ridden him like mad against the door.

Erestor grabbed his housecoat and wrapped it around his body, sitting on his bed, looking at Ecthelion who realised he was dismissed, none to gently and began to dress. “Erestor, where... uhm... where does this leave... us?” he finally said as he finished dressing.

“It leaves us as Erestor and Ithildin, my friend,” Erestor stated, “the weapons master and chief advisor of Rivendell.”

“I know that already, Erestor.. what I meant was...” Ecthelion argued.

Erestor cut him off with a hand gesture. “No, that is exactly what I mean.”

“What?” Ecthelion tried to understand, “so all... this,” he gestured against the door, “means nothing to you? You expect me to go back to playing chess and have pleasant conversation about flowers and other rubbish?”

“Of course it means something to me,” Erestor said, looking thoroughly sated. “I made you smile, didn’t I? I promised to take your fears away. Didn’t I do that?”

“You are... incredible!” Ecthelion spat. Raking a trembling hand through his hair, he looked at Erestor with eyes large with disappointment. Too stupefied to speak, Ecthelion just turned and opened the door to the corridor. “You got semen on your door,” he stated flatly as he slammed the door after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04 AN: YAY finally we got around to the part I know we have all been waiting for!! The elf smut! Enjoy girls and germs. Stupid little remark is that I almost actually named this fic ‘hunting high and low’ *heh* But I figured that that so many know that tune so ppl would think it a song fic. Admitted I still like that tune, maybe that just proves that I am indeed tea sucking euro trash, you’ll never know *grins*


	12. Raise me up and don’t let me fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrond and Erestor have a heart to heart, and Erestor decides on his feelings towards Ecthelion.

_Many strangers have I met_   
_On the road to my regret_   
_Many lost years seems to find themselves in me_   
_They ask me to reveal_   
_The very thoughts they would conceal_   
_Love rescue me_

_U2 – love rescue me._

_____________________________________________________

 

Things had quickly gone back to normal. Erestor and Ecthelion had gone back to ignoring each other quickly. They had once more become just the weapons master and chief advisor of Lord Elrond. Ecthelion had wept bitter tears in his bed alone, he had cursed the Valar, blaming them and their vague instructions, but most of all he had hated himself for believing the stupid oracle of Galadriel’s mirror. Seeing Erestor move through the dining room to his seat, he still remembered those soft hands across his skin, words whispered in passion, and the feel of the beautiful elf’s lips on his heated skin. But every day since then it had been the same. At most he had gotten a vague mockery of a smile with the words, “Oh, master Ithildin, I didn’t see you there, please excuse me.”

He must have looked tormented during that first week, because Elrond dragged him into his office, seated him and looked at him with a disapproving raised brow. He had wanted to know if he suffered from nightmares, or if he felt drained. Ecthelion had denied that anything was wrong, but Elrond clearly didn’t believe him. And he had not been allowed to leave before he had promised to come back if this condition that he did absolutely not suffer from, continued. And so Ecthelion promised to return and submit to a health check-up, if he felt sick in any way, allowing him to flee Elrond’s office. He did not suffer from insomnia; what pained him was lovesickness.

 

Erestor had walked around the barracks, watching the snow covered field, enjoying his lunch break. He tried to deny what had brought him here, but when he heard voices, he hid in the shadows. Before he saw him, he heard his voice. Ithildin! He was coming out of the barracks together with someone else, oh by the Valar! Erestor hoped he would not be discovered, because if he were, he would have to answer a long string of awkward questions, and he had absolutely no reason to be here, his feet had just carried him off! But as he saw Ithildin standing still next to the circle arena made of wooden logs they used for special training, he knew that it had not just been his feet. He had come here for this; he needed to see Ithildin, that elf who had invaded his dreams. And even if he had dismissed Ithildin himself, he still got a pang in his heart remembering the hurt look on Ithildin’s face. But he had done the right thing, hadn’t he? He knew he had! Someone as precious as Ithildin would not want to get involved with someone like him! He had to withstand this storm in his heart. That night when Ithildin had left in anger, there was nothing he had wanted more than to wrap his arms around the dark haired beauty and whisper that he was sorry, and to curl up in bed naked, waking to find the morning sun kissing Ithildin’s fair face. But no, he could not claim Ithildin’s heart.

He watched as Ithildin suddenly pulled his tunic over his head, and stood with a bare torso in the snow, picking up his sword, while laughing and frolicking with the other elf. Erestor felt an insane surge of jealousy come over him. Ithildin unleashed like this was so breathtaking that Erestor stood completely mesmerised, watching Ithildin and the other elf pick up their swords and begin a friendly fight. The sound of steel against steel gave Erestor goosebumps; it had always been like that. Lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t notice that someone was watching him.

Elrond pulled the curtain down again as he walked from his study window, making a mental note to speak with Erestor the first chance he got.

________________

  
After lunch, Elrond pulled Erestor aside, and asked him politely to step into his office, which Erestor did. Once in there Elrond turned around and closed the door behind him, looking at Erestor with a disapproving raised eyebrow. “Erestor,” he sighed, “when did you plan on admitting your feelings?”

“What?” Erestor gasped. This came as a complete shock to the advisor. “Have you lost your mind, Elrond?” he said knitting his eyebrows in confusion.

“Quite the contrary, Erestor,” Elrond said with a knowing smile. “I have been wondering about what was eating you inside, until I saw you yesterday.” Erestor’s eyes widened but he kept silent. “I saw you hiding, looking at Ithildin by the barracks, and then my curiosity was piqued, and so I have watched you. Every time he is in the room, you light up.”

Erestor couldn't help but to blush slightly. He should have known that he would never be able to keep something like this from Elrond. He smiled inwardly, but then sobered up, as he looked directly at Elrond. “That was very observant of you, Elrond, but I don’t plan on ever in my life telling him.” He walked over to the window and looked out on the grey sky, pregnant with heavy rain.

“You have been alone for too long, my precious friend. Maybe you should give it a chance.” Elrond walked over to Erestor and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Tell him before it is too late, or eventually he will be beyond your reach.”

Erestor nodded, knowing Elrond was right, but he didn’t know how to voice it.

_______________

  
Erestor left Elrond’s office and went straight to Ecthelion’s chambers. Having lived in this house for so many years; he had no trouble finding it. Opening the door slowly and silently, he saw the room cloaked in the dim evening light, with Ecthelion standing on the balcony looking out over the gardens again. With soft steps he walked out through the balcony doors, out into the rain. Wrapping his arms around Ecthelion, he held the other tight, thankful that the other elf couldn't see his face painted with regret.

“We shouldn’t have done what we did,” Ecthelion whispered. “I am sorry I was angry with you, I played along myself.. and, and...”

“Did you miss me?” Erestor whispered.

Ecthelion nodded slowly. “I did, terribly. I should be angry with myself, not you. I fooled myself, and I paid the price.” Erestor answered by kissing Ecthelion softly on his neck. Ecthelion closed his eyes, feeling tears mingle with the rain on his cheeks. Taking a deep shuddering breath, he turned in Erestor’s embrace. Looking directly at the other elf, reaching out, he caressed Erestor's cheek and smiled sadly. “Erestor,” he whispered, and when Erestor was about to say something, he lay two fingers over his lips to silence him. With his other hand he reached up and with trembling fingers removed the eye patch. “I am not Ithildin,” he whispered, looking Erestor directly in the eyes, expecting loathing and anger. “I am his twin.”

“Ecthelion,” Erestor whispered.

“Yes,” Ecthelion said, turning his head, looking away from Erestor.

Blinking confusedly, Erestor whispered, “We are all entitled to our secrets.”

Ecthelion looked back at Erestor with confusion written across his beautiful features. “You are not angry with me? I deceived you? And you don’t know what I really am.”

Erestor smiled and shook his head slowly. “No, I am not angry with you, I think ... I lo...”

Ecthelion clasped a hand over Erestor's. “Don’t.” Looking absolutely miserable, Ecthelion shook his head. “You should hear me out first, and then, when you have heard all I have to say, decide if you still think me worthy of such a declaration.”

“Ith... Ecthelion, there is nothing you can say that can possibly...” Erestor said softly.

“Hush,” Ecthelion said. “Once...” he took a deep breath before he continued. “Once, I fell in love with Tuor. I would have given all for him to be at my side. Never once did I realise that he would eventually perish,” Ecthelion sighed. “When Tuor fell in love with Idril, I understood why he would be infatuated with such a beautiful she-elf, but I didn’t realise that he would choose her over me, and when I, on my knees in tears, asked him, he said ‘heirs’ and I resented him for that. I might not have said so, but that was what I did. I could not compete with Idril’s ability to bear children. I did not understand why it was important to him to sire any children.” Ecthelion laughed softly in embarrassment over his own stupidity. “I know that now, seeing Elrond, and the twins... Erestor! Had I had my way, these elves had never been born, and that crime alone should strike me dead ten times!”

“Ecthelion, you were not born with the gift of foresight, you were just in love. I understand your reasoning,” Erestor said with a serious glare.

“But that is not all,” Ecthelion said, looking at the ground, studying his boots intensely. “Glorfindel had had his eye on me. Every elf in the city of Gondolin wanted a piece of Glorfindel; every elf and she-elf wanted to bathe in that golden aura for just a minute, all except me. I loathed that elf.” Ecthelion smiled to himself. “Why, I don’t really know anymore. Maybe it was because he was alive and popular, and I was next to a shadow. Or maybe it was because I found his ego or his self assured smirks appalling. Nothing changes the fact that I hated him, and because of that, he wanted me.” Ecthelion raked a hand through his hair and let out a shuddering breath. “He saw Tuor kiss me, and then late one night he came to my house, telling me that he would take his knowledge to the king if I did not give him what he wanted... me.”

“Glorfindel? But...”

“Yes, Glorfindel. I do not mean to put him in a bad light or anything. But I cannot tell you the truth without also telling you this. I agreed to his terms, and I did so willingly, all along telling myself that I was protecting Tuor and his at the time unborn son, but in reality I was lonely, Erestor. All I wanted was someone to call my own, and even if I knew he only wanted what he could not have, I learned to like him, like him a lot. And I betrayed him. When he found out, he was angry and was going to... going to...” Ecthelion bit his lip and shook his head lightly. “But as Gondolin fell, whom did I turn to? Glorfindel. I asked him to bed me one last time. He refused and called me a harlot. It might sound harsh, but he was right.” Ecthelion finally lifted his head and looked at Erestor, whose eyes had filled with tears. “This is why I felt it easier to become Ithildin, but now that you know the truth, I really should stop the charade.”

Erestor said nothing; he just wrapped his arms around Ecthelion and held him in a crushing embrace.

“I just wanted to stay a little longer in Rivendell; I wanted to be close to Elrond, the twins and you,” Ecthelion whispered.

“No one asked you to leave,” Erestor mumbled.

“But they will,” Ecthelion sobbed. “They will, once they know the truth!”

“Of course not,” Erestor said, kissing Ecthelion’s cheek. “They loved you as Ithildin, and they will love you as Ecthelion, believe me.”

“I should tell Elrond, and then he will decide what to do with his knowledge,” Ecthelion said vaguely.

“In the morning,” Erestor whispered, brushing Ecthelion’s ear with his lips. “Stay with me tonight.”

“You don’t mean that,” Ecthelion offered weakly, closing his eyes from the divinity of the sensation of Erestor's lips against his skin.

“I do.”

Turning his face, he gazed right into Erestor's friendly brown eyes. He was about to say something, but Erestor claimed his lips. Torn between lust and embarrassment, Ecthelion struggled weakly in Erestor’s arms. “Someone might see,” he mumbled, untying his lover’s thin leggings.

“Let them,” Erestor breathed, running his hands up and down Ecthelion’s back, reaching up to cup the dark haired elf’s cheeks. “Let them all see my beautiful lover, and let them know that he is mine.”

Ecthelion blinked and blushed, answering Erestor's statement by pressing closer to the other elf, rubbing his apparent need against Erestor’s hip, strangely aroused by the thought of coupling in public. And before he knew it, Erestor had pushed him down over the balcony rail. Grabbing onto the carvings on the rail, Ecthelion closed his eyes, and purred, feeling Erestor's mouth slowly move from the small of his back to his shoulders. Ecthelion felt delirious from the first thrust, with lust and pain, shame and love mingled in one, and he let out a wailing moan that echoed in the empty garden.

“Oh yes, you like this,” Erestor whispered hoarsely, not moving, just grabbing on to Ecthelion’s hip and hair, pulling the other elf’s head back, exposing Ecthelion’s neck. A groan from his lover was the answer. “I love you,” Erestor whispered tenderly, as he started to move, thrusting slowly, getting goosebumps as Ecthelion whimpered in unspent need. Taking pity on his lover, Erestor moved faster. Letting go of his lover’s hair he moved his other hand down to Ecthelion’s hip too, and before he knew it, all he heard was the throbbing of his own heart, Ecthelion’s needy moans and mews, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh, hard and rhythmically.

Taking himself in his hand, Ecthelion spiralled towards his climax swiftly. He cried out as his world crashed down, and his body took over, moving on its own accord.

Lying spent on the balcony floor, Erestor felt an insane giggle rise in his throat, and looking at Ecthelion, it appeared as if he felt the same. “Ecthelion,” he whispered tenderly.

Ecthelion didn’t answer; he just smiled. Hearing his name spoken with that much love did not require an answer, it just sounded like a little prayer in itself. Maybe Namo wasn’t as stupid as he had thought only hours ago. The dark-haired elf kissed Erestor’s lips softly, and thought to himself that he didn’t know much, but what he did know was that he never wanted to hear anyone else speak his name this tenderly, only Erestor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04 AN: only 5 chapters to go, the U2 album ‘rattle and hum’ is definitely amongst my favourite albums, I bought it when it came out, and I never tired of it.


	13. Things will never be the same again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ecthelion gets some interesting news.

_I thought that we would just be friends_  
 _Things will never be the same again_  
 _It’s just beginning its not the end_  
 _Things will never be the same again_  
 _It’s not a secret anymore_  
 _Now we’ve opened up the door_  
 _Starting tonight and from now on_  
 _We’ll never, never be the same again._

_Mel C – Never be the same again._

_________________________________________________

 

Standing in front of Elrond’s door, Ecthelion still battled with himself. He could just keep this a secret. After all, Erestor would never have known if he had not told him. His lie was still undetected. Erestor had told him over and over again that Elrond would not be too upset, and he was sure that he would not go to such lengths as to ask him to leave the last homely house. Ecthelion was not so sure. He had been sure of himself before, and had been terribly wrong! But now he had decided to trust Erestor, for if their love should even stand a chance, Ecthelion felt that the charade should end. He had never heard of something good being build on a foundation of lies and untruths.

Standing undecided in his own thoughts, Ecthelion was startled as the heavy oak door suddenly opened and Erestor bumped into him on his way out in the corridor. “Erestor!” he croaked as he stumbled backwards to find his ground.

“Hello there, handsome,” Erestor said with a big smile and a vague blush. And much to Ecthelion’s surprise, he kissed him on the cheek. “Elrond is in if you came to see him.”

“I… I…” Ecthelion stuttered, not really sure what he was supposed to think about this, but he knew his heart was beating like mad.

“Is something wrong?” Erestor said, suddenly looking worried.

“No, no,” Ecthelion said, shaking his head. “You just… I don’t know... we… uhm,” he rambled, seeing Erestor growing more worried and very confused. Ecthelion gathered all his courage and kissed the advisor.

As the kiss ended, Erestor grinned and leaned in to whisper something, when they both heard Elrond clear his throat behind them. Looking up they saw Elrond standing in the doorframe, grinning like a fool. “Did you come to see me or Erestor?” he chuckled.

“You,” Ecthelion said, blushing crimson. “My lord.”

“Well come on inside, dear Ithildin,” Elrond said, stepping away from the door frame. “I am sure you can see Erestor later.”

Erestor laughed whole-heartedly, and kissed Ecthelion on his cheek before walking off, leaving a baffled Ecthelion facing lord Elrond.

_______________________________

  
Ecthelion had sat down and slowly explained it all to Elrond; the otherwise calm ruler of Imladris had been in tears at the end of Ecthelion’s tale. And for long moments neither spoke. Then Ecthelion broke the silence. “Are you angry with me, my lord?”

Elrond frowned, confused. “Angry? Why would I be angry with you?” he said softly.

Ecthelion pulled the eye patch off and carefully folded it on Elrond’s desk, looking up at his lord cross-eyed from the sudden change of vision. “I tricked you.” Ecthelion looked at the eye patch as were he hypnotised. “I never meant to lie, but I hope you understand that I couldn’t live with Glorfindel’s loathing all over again.” Looking up at Elrond again, Ecthelion’s eyes widened in apparent fear. “But I will have to face him, won’t I? By Eru! What was I thinking? I can’t stay in Rivendell after all! He will… he will… “

“Calm yourself, Ecthelion,” Elrond said, tasting the other elf’s name as were it a strange dish. “Glorfindel won’t do anything. I am sure he has learned from his mistake as well, and is ready to let bygones be bygones.” Smiling at the nervous elf, Elrond tried to reach out and offer him a soothing hand, but Ecthelion pulled his hands close. “You really shouldn’t worry so much, but for what it is worth, I do understand your decision to become Ithildin, and I too would take Celeborn and Lady Galadriel’s advice without thinking twice.”

Nodding, Ecthelion smiled weakly. Maybe everything would solve itself anyway.

“You should drink some water, my friend. You look terribly pale,” Elrond said, standing to fetch a glass of cold water for Ecthelion. As Ecthelion took the glass, Elrond felt his forehead. “You are burning up,” he murmured, looking troubled. “It cannot be!”

“What?” Ecthelion said sounding anxious. He didn’t like the tone in Elrond’s voice. He sounded almost scared.

“A fever,” Elrond said, feeling Ecthelion’s forehead and neck. “You are running a fever, it is simply not possible!” Removing his hands from Ecthelion’s hot skin he pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily while trying to understand what was happening. “Would you mind telling me how long you have felt like this, and when were you going to let me know?”

The slightly scolding tone made Ecthelion feel ashamed. Truth was that he had felt strange for quite some time, but he had felt that there was no use burdening lord Elrond with his petty trouble. “I don’t exactly know,” he said with a vague voice.

Elrond detected his lie on the spot and shook his head. “Come, let me try and figure out what is ailing you.”

Ashamed of his own crude lie, Ecthelion stood up and followed Elrond into a little room next to the office. Lying down on the cot, he closed his eyes and let Elrond roll him around on his stomach, poking him in the kidneys. Elrond asked, “Does this hurt?” Ecthelion shook his head, and Elrond continued to put pressure on different places on his back, before he was rolled unto his back and the poking continued on his chest and throat. But nothing seemed wrong. Elrond looked puzzled until he pushed the spot where he knew humans would sometimes suffer from diseases in the appendix. Seeing Ecthelion flinch and hearing him suck in breath, he started to explore the area, only to find that the actual sore spot was lower.

Seeing Elrond’s worried look as he squirmed under the pressure on his abdomen, “Don’t” was all he could say. It didn’t exactly hurt, it was just very unpleasant. Ecthelion could have panicked, and as Elrond left to pick out a book from his bookshelf, that was exactly what he did. Sitting up he raked a sweaty hand through his hair. “El-Elrond?” he whispered.

“Hold on, my friend” Elrond murmured, reading with dawning amazement until he slammed the book shut. Walking back to Ecthelion, he gently pushed the frightened elf down on the cot again. “When I push down here, what happens?” he asked. “Exactly.”

“Wh-what happens?” Ecthelion croaked.

“Yes.”

“I get nauseous, and it is really unpleasant... I wish you would stop,” Ecthelion whispered, not knowing why the look Elrond gave him made him want to cry. “What is wrong with me?”

Elrond smiled and shook his head. “For low long have you had a fever?”

“I told you... I don’t remember,” Ecthelion whined.

“For a month? Longer?” Elrond asked with a strange smug expression that gave Ecthelion the idea that the other elf was playing with him.

Ecthelion just nodded. “A month sounds about right.”

“Been tired? Maybe you had nose bleeding occasionally?” Elrond asked.

“Now that you mention it, yes I have slept a lot, but I just thought I was still tired from... I don’t know... Oh Elrond, tell me what is wrong!” Ecthelion begged.

“You, my friend, are pregnant,” Elrond said with a huge smile.

“I am WHAT?” Ecthelion cried, sitting up with so much force he made himself nauseous.

“Pregnant,” Elrond repeated. “You carry a tiny life inside.”

“How, when, who? I mean… by Eru!” Ecthelion couldn’t handle more information and fainted.

Elrond stood and looked at him, brushed a strand of hair from Ecthelion’s face. “Destined for greatness, indeed,” he whispered.

________________________

  
Slowly waking, he could feel someone holding his hand. A cold breeze came into the room, and Ecthelion reckoned it was morning. He tried to remember what he had dreamt, a terrible nightmare. “Erestor,” he purred as he opened his eyes, expecting to look directly into his beloved’s chocolate eyes, but what he saw was a light blue tunic with golden hair flowing down, and looking up he met two troubled azure eyes. “Glorfindel,” Ecthelion breathed, feeling his pulse rise, why was this elf here?

“Shh,” Glorfindel hushed as he smiled. “You fainted, and Elrond asked me to sit at your side until he could find Erestor.”

“I fainted?” Ecthelion asked. So it was all true? It had not just been a terrible nightmare? “Oh no,” the dark-haired elf groaned, covering his face with the arm that Glorfindel did not have a hold of.

“Ecthelion,” Glorfindel said softly, “is there anything you need?”

Paling, Ecthelion realised the truth was out, and he slowly removed his arm. Looking up at Glorfindel, those eyes were exactly as he remembered them, and the full lips still looked exactly as soft as he knew they were. This was indeed the Glorfindel he had known. “Are...are you here to gloat?” he whispered.

“Gloat?” Glorfindel's expression changed from troubled to shameful. “No,” he whispered, raising Ecthelion’s hand to his lips. He kissed the palm of the other elf’s sweaty hand. “You are, and have always been a magnificent elf, Ecthelion. I should have felt privileged to have some of your love, but...” Glorfindel closed his eyes looking as he were in pain for a second. “I wanted it all.” Smiling down at Ecthelion, he shook his head. “I should have known better, my friend.” He kissed Ecthelion’s hand again before releasing it. “You have a wonderful gift in Erestor's love. Promise me to cherish it.”

Ecthelion wanted to say something but all that came out of his mouth was, “I really tried.”

Glorfindel smiled and caressed Ecthelion’s forehead. “I don’t exactly know how to tell you this, but before you hear gossip I should tell you. Erestor and I have shared a bed in the past. He is not my lover; he is my friend. But he just looked so lonely and so Haldir told me that he would understand if... if... you understand don’t you?”

“Haldir? Friends? No, I don’t... what about the fight in the stables I saw?” Ecthelion said with confusion.

“That was…” Glorfindel blushed slightly. “About you.” He smiled a little smug smile. “I didn’t know you saw that.”

“Me?” Ecthelion blinked, confused.

“You see, Erestor was vacant, and I didn’t understand why, and when I found out who it was he was pining for, I...I am sorry to say that I yelled at him. Once I too had fallen in love with the same traits, and I... I don’t know... I am sorry Ecthelion. I should not have meddled, and I should just have backed off.”

“You were in love with me?” Ecthelion whispered. “But you hated me.” He tried to understand the information just given to him, but his mind flat out refused.

“I was very much in love with you,” Glorfindel said with a sad smile. “Only love can make someone act as idiotic as I did.”

“But...”

“I would never have hurt you for real Ecthelion. It was all just empty threats to hide my wounded heart,” Glorfindel sighed. “I hope you will forgive me some day.”

Ecthelion was about to say something, but just at that moment the door opened and Erestor peeked inside. The raven-haired elf looked as if he had run through the realm to be here, which made Ecthelion smile. Glorfindel got up and handed the chair over to Erestor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04 AN: last chapter of ‘Heartland’ and now things get really crazy! Don’t say I didn’t warn you. And guess what?! Its time for the Mpreg thing – wooot!


	14. Left me with love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don’t exactly work out as Ecthelion had planned.

_Sat there looking ugly_   
_Looking ugly and mean_   
_Knew what you were saying_   
_You were saying to me_   
_Baby got some new rules_   
_Baby said she’s had it with me_   
_Seems a shame to waste your time on me_   
_Seems a lie to waste your time for me_   
_Left me with love_   
_And what it’s doing to me._

_REM – me in honey_

_____________________________________________

 

“Elrond, I implore you,” Erestor begged, leaning across the broad desk to look Elrond right into his eyes.

“No Erestor, I wont!” Elrond hissed. “You are acting like a child. I refuse to send you with the cortege to Mirkwood. Your place is here with Ecthelion.”

“Elrond,” Erestor groaned, “Of all the flea ridden elves in Middle-earth, you know why it must be like this, let me travel to Mirkwood.”

“And do what? Leave Ecthelion to deal with this? You don’t think he will resent your absence just a little?” Elrond shook his head. “No, my friend, you are acting like an immature fool, nothing less.”

A cry of frustration rose from Erestor's throat as he slammed his fist down onto Elrond’s desk. His chocolate eyes looked as if they were on fire. “This cannot be, Elrond! You have to understand that, and so does he!”

“Oh, so you expect this poor elf to understand that he is thrust back into life only to wind up pregnant? Both things are absolutely unexplainable, but your cowardice, that is very much explainable, Erestor.”

“I care not what you think on this matter, Elrond!” Erestor fumed. “I shall leave with the Mirkwood cortege.”

“Please, Erestor, you don’t want to abandon Ecthelion at this hour. He might never forgive you, should you choose to ride,” Elrond said, opting for changing tactics.

“Then I will just have to live with that, wont I?” Erestor spat.

“Would you at least talk with him yourself?” Elrond said, realising the battle was lost, and Erestor would leave with the Mirkwood cortege no matter what Elrond might think about it.

“There is no reason to upset him further. You are the mender, Elrond, you mend him,” Erestor said harshly as he turned to leave.

Elrond stood up so swiftly that he knocked over the chair he had been sitting in. “Erestor, why are you acting like this? Why are you so upset? It is a gift, not a curse, why can’t you see that?”

“Because,” Erestor said with his back to Elrond, “my bloodline has ended and my loins are barren, you know this Elrond.” Cringing visibly, Erestor continued with a voice thick of emotion, “this child of his, it cannot be mine.”

“Still he claims it is,” Elrond said, walking around the desk and towards the distraught Erestor by the door. “Maybe the Valar waved their magic wand? Have you thought about that?”

“A miracle? No,” Erestor mumbled.

“All right, if this is not a miracle, then explain to me why Ecthelion, who is by the way a very fine specimen of a male elf, is pregnant as a female? Is it so incredible to believe that you fathered it, even if you should be unable to.”

“I will not discuss this with you further, Elrond, my words are final” Erestor said.

Elrond could hear the doubt he had planted in the other elf, and nodded in defeat. “Have it your way, my friend, but know I do not condone this.”

“I don’t need your blessing,” Erestor spat as he walked out the door.

Elrond thought about stopping him, but instead he turned to walk to his balcony and look out over the courtyard where the cortege for Mirkwood already had assembled. Erestor had originally been assigned to this trip, but Elrond had thought that with his newfound love and family that he would want to stay in Rivendell, but never the less he stood there and watched a black clad Erestor mount his horse and after a little while the cortege started to move, taking expensive presents to Thranduil and his wife, and what Elrond feared, a new advisor to the kingdom of Mirkwood.

_______________________________________

 

Elrond had made his way to the healing house. His curiosity about this male pregnancy was completely overshadowed by the ugly task at hand. Opening the door, he saw Ecthelion lying in bed, sleeping soundly. “Ecthelion?” he said softly. “I am here to examine you and see if everything is as should be expected.”

Ecthelion opened his eyes and blinked in the stark sunlight that came in through the windows. “Elrond?”

Elrond smiled and sat down next to the bed that held Ecthelion. “We need to talk, Ecthelion” he said.

Turning and looking at Elrond’s troubled grey eyes, Ecthelion felt a chill travel down his spine. “What is amiss?”

“My friend,” Elrond started, taking Ecthelion’s hand. Seeing the large frightened eyes of the other elf, Elrond hated Erestor in this moment. “Erestor, he...has he...has left.”

Blinking, Ecthelion felt his hands starting to tremble. “Le-left? Why, I mean..”

“He left for Mirkwood, and I,” Elrond paused and squeezed Ecthelion’s clammy hands, “I don’t think he will return.”

Tears welled up in Ecthelion’s eyes and a dull pain settled in his stomach, making him feel slightly nauseated. “Gone?” he whispered with a broken voice.

“Yes,” Elrond answered, closing his eyes as Ecthelion started to weep pitifully. Listening to the poor elf’s sobs, he soothed him best he could, but he knew only one would be able to calm him, and that one was on his way to Mirkwood. He knew the reason for Erestor's panic, but it was not his place to tell Ecthelion. “I wish I could tell you he would come back soon,” Elrond whispered, “but that would be a lie.”

“I am truly cursed,” Ecthelion cried.

“Nonsense,” Elrond said softly. “You carry a gift, a gift so rare that it is not in any of my books in all of my library. Not even Galadriel has ever heard of this happening before, never in all the time since Eru created all with his son has a male elf fallen pregnant. This is a miracle, my friend, you are blessed, not cursed.” When Ecthelion just wept, Elrond sat down on the bed and pulled the sobbing elf on his lap to soothe him. “Trust in the Valar, they know what they are doing. They gave you this gift for a reason. With or without Erestor, you shall see this to the end, and you will see that I am right.”

“Why?” Ecthelion whispered, sniffling. “Did he say why he left? I thought he loved me.”

“He...uhm,” Elrond said, not sure if he should tell the truth, but decided that Ecthelion had had enough untruths in his life. “He cannot be the father, Ecthelion, I know this myself. Erestor is barren, he cannot sire children.”

“But...but…” Ecthelion moved out of Elrond’s embrace and looked directly into the other elf’s eyes. “Please tell me this is a cruel jest, Elrond.”

“I am afraid not, I am his physician, and I know his claim to be true,” Elrond said with a tormented expression. “I need the truth, Ecthelion, I don’t doubt that you and Erestor were in love, but who did you bed before him? Maybe the foetus is older than I think. It grows at an alarming rate as it is, so maybe I cannot narrow down the moment where you were impregnated, maybe it is in fact a month older than I first thought.”

“Again,” Ecthelion wailed, “It’s happening again! By Eru, no!” Shaking his head fiercely, he covered his mouth with his hands.

“Ecthelion”, Elrond said reaching for the pregnant elf, “calm down!”

“No!” he suddenly screamed, “why should I? You are telling me that I am lying, nothing has changed, it has just become worse!” Hammering his fist into the headboard of the bed, Ecthelion let go of his frustration and slowly sank down unto the bed again, crying his heart out. “I swear it is the truth.” he whispered. “I did not bed anyone but Erestor.”

“Let us not talk of this now,” Elrond said softly, looking up as the door opened. “Glorfindel,” the half-elf said with a smile, “would you stay here with Ecthelion for a moment? I have to fetch something.”

“Sure,” Glorfindel said and replaced Elrond’s seat on the bed. With Elrond out of the room, the golden elf leaned in and kissed Ecthelion’s clammy brow. “I heard what happened, and I thought I would come see how you were holding up.”

“You heard it too?” Ecthelion whined pitifully. “Why are the Valar this cruel to me?”

“I am sure that Elrond already made you aware what a gift you carry,” Glorfindel said, “and Ecthelion, my friend, have you stopped to think that this might be the reason for your return to Middle-earth, that you should give life to this soul, and that only you can do that?”

“But I don’t want to,” Ecthelion whispered in childish defence. “I don’t want to relive this over again!”

Glorfindel didn’t speak; he just listened and caressed Ecthelion’s dark hair in a soothing movement.

“He left me, left Rivendell in anger because he thinks I am a liar, and that this child is the embodiment of my escapades with what is no doubt in his mind numerous elves, but it is not true Glorfindel! I only ever bedded three! Tuor, you and him.” Biting his hand to not cry harder, Ecthelion curled up in a foetal position. “And now it seems like I have to be strong for myself and this thing inside me, but I don’t want to.”

Glorfindel blushed slightly, remembering his own accusations of Ecthelion’s assumed love life. “Maybe he is not here, but I am, Ecthelion,” he said, knowing what those words meant. “If you want me to, I shall claim lordship to the child, and this way you need not worry about a false reputation and gossip. After all, it is not like it is a secret we once were lovers. It is all over the history books of Gondolin.” Ecthelion didn’t answer but he seemed to calm down. “And if you want me to, I shall ride to Mirkwood myself and personally make sure that the aloof advisor will return here.”

“There is no need for a trip to Mirkwood, my friend,” Ecthelion whispered. “He chose, leave it at that.”

“But Elrond said that the child grows unnervingly fast. It shall be ready for birth within weeks, Ecthelion, and what then? Are you sure you don’t want him here?” Glorfindel argued.

“I thought he and I had something together, but apparently not, first chance he gets he accuses me of lying and...No, Glorfindel I don’t want him here, he can stay in Mirkwood and rot for all I care,” Ecthelion whispered as he rolled onto his other side, staring the white wall and away from Glorfindel.

“All right,” Glorfindel said softly, and he really couldn't blame his old companion in his conclusion. He was sure he would have felt the same in this situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04 AN: first chapter of the last part, we’re almost done here! And as I said, time for some bad craziness... in all this, please remember the fluffy end I promised.


	15. I never let on that I was on a sinking ship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Given some time, Ecthelion finds in his heart what he must do.

_Emptiness is loneliness_   
_And loneliness is cleanliness_   
_And cleanliness is godliness_   
_And God is empty_   
_Just like me._

_You blame yourself for what you can’t ignore_   
_You blame yourself for wanting more._

_Smashing Pumpkins - Zero_

__________________________________________________________

 

-Two weeks later-

Erestor still resided in Mirkwood. Elrond swore that he had not received word from his advisor, and he did honestly not think he ever would. The words they had shared upon his departure had not been friendly. Ecthelion was strangely comforted by this, knowing that Elrond had not condoned Erestor’s behaviour. Back in his own little room, Ecthelion had had days and nights to think his situation over, but no matter what he thought up, it led him no closer to a conclusion. All he knew was that this was something he had to do himself. He could apparently not count on others. True... Glorfindel had gallantly offered to claim lordship of the child, and Ecthelion still entertained himself with that fantasy, what it would be like for the child to grow up with Glorfindel, Haldir and he. But after some time, Ecthelion himself disappeared out of that equation, leaving only the child, Glorfindel and Haldir. And now! Now he had slowly let his heart be filled with the longing for the sea, realising with dread that he did not even want to know this child inside him. He would never look upon it as his own, he would never be its mother, he would be something else. A child needed a mother! Not some emotionally crippled freak like him. But this line of thoughts also led him into a blind spot and no closer to a solution.

Maybe it was because he had wanted too badly to have a part in Tuor’s son, maybe the Valar had seen him mother Eärendil whenever the chance was there. He had loved that child with his entire being, loved him just as much as he had wished him undone. Even if he had wished that Eärendil had never been born, he would have laid down his life for the child, and now, now he had the twins, they were but toddlers really, and spent most of their time on their mother’s lap or with the nanny when poor Celebrian thought she would go insane if she did not get some time to herself. But for some reason he felt a strong bond to these children as well, and he was sure they would grow up to become fine elves some day. But where did this all leave him? Had he really wanted a child of his own so badly that the Valar had granted him one? But why like this? Why not just present him with a female elf and let him sire children the normal way? Why throw temptation his way in the embodiment of Elrond’s chief advisor’ Erestor?

A knock on the door shook Ecthelion out of his gloomy musings, and as Elrond peeked inside, he couldn’t help but smile because the ruler of Imladris had finger paint in his hair. “Good afternoon, my friend,” Elrond said, and came into the room, standing next to Ecthelion in the window overlooking the garden. “My servants tell me you return the trays untouched. This will not do, Ecthelion. You must eat.”

“But I feel sick to my stomach,” Ecthelion whined.  
  
“You worry too much, you shouldn’t burden yourself with ‘what ifs’ and ‘could be’s,’” Elrond said softly with a little smile. “You have to deal with this sooner or later, and you must consider the possibility that Erestor will not return. Will you still brood? You should be thrilled, you should be happy. Not troubled and locked inside this big house.”

To Elrond’s surprise, Ecthelion turned around and slammed his fist into the wall. “I am tired of trying to be happy!” he spat. “I’m not! I don’t want this...any of this!” Elrond took a step back from Ecthelion, who kept raging. “This child is unnatural! It’s wrong! I..I..” Ecthelion’s rage disappeared as he gave into despair. “I wish I had never set foot on Middle-earth again.”

Elrond wrapped his arms around Ecthelion as he slowly sat down on the floor. “You will be an excellent parent. I saw you with the twins,” he whispered.

“I don’t want to be an excellent parent. I don’t want to be a parent, period!” Ecthelion wept. “Elrond, when this child is born. I shall travel to the grey havens. I long to see the ocean. I have never seen it, but still my mind feeds me pictures of white birds and soft breezes.”

Elrond took Ecthelion’s face in his hands to make sure he looked him directly into his eyes. “Do you realise what you are saying?” he whispered with urgency.

Ecthelion nodded as much as the hold would let him. “My child has a future here, but I do not.” Blinking a tear from his eye, Ecthelion smiled sadly at Elrond. “Namo told me that my part in Middle-earth was not over, but maybe it is not I, but rather my child who has a part to play, and I am merely the vessel. Maybe it really is true that Erestor did not sire this child. Maybe no one did, maybe it is pure magic.”

Elrond sat with his mouth agape, something that was both very unbecoming and rare for the leader of Imladris. He had not even thought of the prospect of magic, he had just assumed that Ecthelion was not ready to tell who the real father was, and that he had wanted it badly to be Erestor because of the love they bore for each other. But magic, yes that would explain a lot! Only magic would overwrite magic!

“Elrond, I want my child to grow up here. I want it to play with your sons and make merry in the lovely gardens I have watched for so long, but I do not want to be here to see it. I never want to see it. I don’t even desire to know its sex,” Ecthelion whispered.

“I...I...” Elrond stuttered, for once being the one at loss for words. “I must speak with Celebrian.”

“I understand,” Ecthelion whispered, slumping as Elrond let go of his head. “I don’t expect you and your wife to take on this burden of mine, but you know the inhabitants here, and I trust you will find it a suitable family who will treat it as their own.”

“Ecthelion,” was all Elrond could say, clearly touched by the other elf’s wish.  
  
_____________________________________________________________

  
The day after, Ecthelion had decided to spend his evening watching the sunset from the gardens, instead of the view he knew too well from his window. He had not even noticed lady Celebrian before she sat down next to him on the slope overlooking the bruinen. “Good evening,” she said softly, hoping she wouldn't startle the other elf.

“Lady Celebrian!” Ecthelion gasped. “Good evening to you too, my lady.” He didn’t know what to say, but as he looked at the female elf, neither did she, and he could only take it that Elrond had talked with his wife, and that this was the reason for her company. “I presume you talked with Elrond,” he said, taking a plummet out into the real issue, instead of exchanging pleasantries.

“I did” Celebrian said, and taking Ecthelion’s hand, she looked him right in his eyes. “I beg you to change your mind. Please stay here in our house and raise your child.”

Ecthelion shook his head sadly. “I want to offer my child the best.”

Celebrian squeezed Ecthelion’s hand. “You are the best, even if you do not think you are. No one in the whole world can claim your title as this child’s rightful parent.”

“Forgive me, lady Celebrian,” Ecthelion said as he slowly withdrew his hands from hers, “but my mind is made up.”

The white lady of Rivendell sighed softly and nodded. “Elrond and I talked this matter over, and I decided that I wanted this chance to talk with you before giving my answer.” Celebrian looked away from Ecthelion and off into the horizon. “Taking upon myself to raise a child that is not mine is no small task, and honestly I wanted to be sure you would not come and claim it later. It would surely break my heart to part with a being that I had grown that close to.”

“Your words offer me great comfort, my lady,” Ecthelion whispered as he too settled his gaze upon the horizon. “I was afraid to even dream that Elrond and you should even consider taking this burden upon yourself.”

Celebrian smiled vaguely. “There is something you should know, Ecthelion. When Elrond first came to me with this proposal, I thought the Valar had answered my prayers. You do not know this, because it is a private matter. But given the circumstances, I believe that you have some right to know.” She wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on her knees like a young girl. “After giving birth to the twins, something happened, and it is impossible for me to bear children again, and I desperately wanted a little girl, a princess. My mother had seen me with a baby girl in her mirror, and when I found I was barren, I lost all faith in the Valar, but now Ecthelion, you come along and so selflessly offer me this gift.”

Ecthelion had listened in silence with growing sadness. The lady’s voice sounded so full of tears that the dark haired elf couldn't help but to feel touched. “I have but one term,” he whispered. “I want this child to grow up as one of your own, never to know what its origin is. All paperwork that Elrond might have must be destroyed or bear your name, not mine. It must never, ever know.” Subconsciously he rubbed his already swollen stomach. While he spoke with soft words, his voice took upon itself a desperate edge as he looked straight at the lady Celebrian. “Promise me this, you must promise me.”

For a long moment Celebrian sat quietly, not knowing what to answer. Could she really live that lie? In the end she nodded. “I swear to never tell the child about you, or to give it any indications that I should not be its birth mother, and Elrond not its father. It shall grow up as a natural sibling to the twins and never ever know about its origin.”

Ecthelion nodded in agreement. This was more than he could ever have hoped for. “Thank you,” he whispered, not knowing what words suited the situation. For a frantic moment he couldn't help but think if things would be different if Erestor had stayed. Maybe they would, maybe they wouldn't. Elrond was right, and so was Glorfindel. He could not cling to daydreams.

Celebrian just sat in silence, watching the now moonlit sky. “You should inform Erestor,” she suddenly whispered.

“I will,” Ecthelion said. “I fear he won’t even read my letter, but I promise to make him aware of the arrangement.” he cringed at the word ‘arrangement,’ but he just didn’t know what else to call it. A deal? No that sounded even worse, and a promise sounded like a marriage.

“Good,” Celebrian whispered, and after sitting like this in silence for a little while she pointed up in the sky. “Look, it’s the north star,” she said softly.

“Yes,” Ecthelion said, remembering being a very young and naïve elf, sitting on a rooftop with Ithildin, watching the stars, dreaming about their future. Somehow this was never a part of it. He had never believed he should sit on a grassy slope and offer a piece of his very soul to a female elf he hardly knew. Never in a million years could he have foreseen that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04 AN: kinda a small chapter this time, there is just no other way for me to do this, sorry guys! The grand drama finale is about to come, and for those of you, which there no doubt are some of, expecting like a “real” mpreg thing, I am sorry to disappoint you, I am not really mentioning the actual pregnancy too much, simply because its not essential to the plot. The child is, though. I hope you understand anyways...


	16. This is my day, and I’m gonna be okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Given some time, Ecthelion finds it in his heart what he must do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04 AN: tada! The last chapter ‘smiles’ hope you enjoyed the ride!

_As we’re nearer to the end_   
_Here we are again_

_We’ve come a long way my friend_   
_How many hours we have spent_

_This is my day_   
_This is my day_   
_And I wanted to let you know_   
_This is my day_   
_This is my day_   
_And I’m gonna be ok._

_Blue Foundation – my day_

____________________________________________

 

Ecthelion sat at his desk and stared at the parchment. Maybe he shouldn’t do this, maybe he really should just let sleeping dogs lie. But Glorfindel had assured him that Erestor was just being difficult, not that he knew why. He put the pen to the paper and took a deep sigh. Erestor deserved the truth.

_Dearest Erestor,_

_I cannot claim that I understand your choice, but I felt I had to inform you of...._

Ecthelion crumpled up the parchment. This was stupid. He didn’t know what to say, and all he wanted to do was to curse Erestor out, and beg on his bleeding knees to come home, but he was done begging.

_Dearest Erestor,_

_I will not ask anything of you, but I will tell you this, I shall leave this place once this abomination I carry inside draws its first breath. You do not need to worry; I will not claim that you sired it, nor that I carried it. I will hand it over to suitable caretakers, and it shall never know the heartache it springs from. Neither will I know its gender or name, so you can safely return to your home within the next moon. You will not find me here, and I will never contact you again. Forgive me, but I don’t seem to know how not to ruin everything and everyone around me._

_Yours, Ecthelion._

He looked at the letter and frowned. It was an idiotic letter, but he reckoned it was as good as it got, and therefore rolled it up and sealed it, ready to go with a messenger to Mirkwood.

_____________________________________________

  
Ecthelion waddled out from the healing house. He hated the way this extra weight made him walk. He was used to walking tall, but this made him feel old, to have trouble walking up the stairs to his room, and just the short walk from the healing house to the main house left him out of breath. Elrond had examined him, finding no means for the child to exit, and Ecthelion had nearly panicked. He wasn’t sure if it was the thought of carrying this thing inside him forever, or that it would rip out of him, tearing him apart like a ripe plum. Elrond had held his hand and soothed him, and not once laughed at his silly fears, but had instead told him that he would put him to sleep and make a fine cut in his abdomen, pulling the child out that way, for lack of other methods, as nature had not granted him one. This had in fact soothed Ecthelion. It didn’t sound as scary as he had imagined, and a scar, well he didn’t mind scars.

But what had unsettled him, was that Elrond had said that the child was now the same size as a normal baby born by a female in the end of the last trimester, in other words, the birth was close. Ecthelion stopped in front of the stairs leading up to the big doors to the main house. He panted and felt a sharp pain in his side, like had he run for hours. He held a hand to his side, suddenly feeling the child shift slightly inside him, stretching his already abused skin. Now that Elrond had assured him that the child would not suddenly burst out of him, he didn’t get as frightened, and with a testing hand gently pushed back. The child pushed back shortly after, and Ecthelion was sure he could see the outline of a little foot. For a second he was curious as to who it was he had carried around inside, after all the child was a little piece of him, and a little piece of Erestor. Then he shook his head at his own stupidity. He had made his choice and it was best for all.

____________________________________________________

  
-1 week later-

Elrond’s worries increased as the child grew, and now he could estimate that it had the same weight and height as a normal child when it was about to be born. He would have to take the child out of Ecthelion within days, if both the mother, or vessel (he did not know what to call Ecthelion exactly), and child were to avoid complications. He knew that Ecthelion had sent a letter to Mirkwood. He did not know what it said, but he could imagine what it could be, taken Ecthelion’s gloomy mood into consideration. Celebrian was edgy as well, afraid that if she showed too much excitement in the upcoming birth, and a babe in the family, then Ecthelion would change his mind, even if Ecthelion had tried to soothe Celebrian several times, making sure that he stood by his decision. Maybe Elrond’s worries would have been less if Ecthelion had eaten, but he didn’t seem to like taking nourishment. The child grew like a parasite, draining Ecthelion of every resource his body had, leaving the elf pale and skinny, not healthy and chubby as pregnancies usually were. Ecthelion had gone from a muscular, well built warrior to something resembling a skeleton, sullen and malnourished.

Ecthelion lay on his bed, not sure he had the strength it took to walk all the way down to the evening meal. A nap seemed much more inviting. He curled up on his bed, silently praying for this to end.

In the middle of the night Ecthelion woke when he heard his door screech on its hinges, and the soft footsteps that followed. He rolled over and looked at the intruder. The guest was obscured in shadow, and a large hood hid his face, but he smelled of rain and horse. Ecthelion raised a brow, not having a single clue why this person would come here.

The person stepped forth, and now stood in the subtle light of the candles that still burned. He pulled his hood back, and to Ecthelion’s surprise his mystery guest was Erestor. “What are you doing here?” Ecthelion spat.

Erestor dropped to his knees with a thud. The impact had to have hurt, judging from the sound of his knees meeting the floorboards, “I..” Erestor whispered, “I did you wrong, and I ask your forgiveness.”

Ecthelion felt white-hot anger flare. “You cast me aside when you saw fit, and now you expect me to pity you because you fall to your knees?” He turned his head and looked away from Erestor. “That will not happen, ‘friend,’” he hissed.

“Will you hear what I have to say then?” Erestor said, moving closer to Ecthelion on his knees.

“Speak if you must,” Ecthelion said, not really interested in whatever stupid excuses Erestor would come up with. He had left him when everything crashed down, and he was not going to forgive so easily.

Slowly Erestor had inched his way to the bed, looking up at Ecthelion. With cold wet hands he gently took Ecthelion’s hand in his. “For decades I wished for nothing but an heir, someone to carry my name long after I had perished, for I was sure I would. I never thought I would linger in Middle-earth. I thought my ending would be swift and bloody.” Erestor tried to hold Ecthelion’s gaze but found the other elf was unwilling to look at him. “You know this, you too were a soldier.”

Ecthelion nodded, and to his annoyance tears stung in the corners of his eyes. He didn’t want to weep like a scorned maid, but he couldn't help it, he was heartbroken and exhausted, and seeing Erestor was just too much. He refused to meet Erestor's eyes as he felt tears run down his cheeks, hot and thick.

Erestor kissed Ecthelion’s hand gently before he continued. “You are so much braver than I, you told of your deception, where I did not, not even to you whom I proclaimed I loved, for my secret is dark and old. I feared and fear still that you shall shun me for what I have to say.” Erestor took a deep shuddering breath and squeezed Ecthelion’s hand. “I was cursed by the Valar, cursed for my stupidity in my youth,” he said. “Not only would I never find peace, love or know true friendship, but my loins are cold, my bloodline cannot be carried on. The Valar made sure of that.” As Ecthelion looked down at Erestor, Erestor bowed his head and whispered, “I am Maglor, the second born of Fëanor’s sons.”

Ecthelion could not be more surprised even if he tried. “But...” he whispered, wondering how it could be that a kinslayer’s eyes could be that soft and full of love, and how his lips could be so soft.

“It was not because I do not love you I left. I do love you, more than you will ever imagine. I have lived for decades knowing that love would never truly be mine, until you came,” Erestor looked up and smiled a little nervous smile, “but the Fëanorian bloodline cannot continue, the Valar themselves forbade it, and I shall never have an heir”.

“But Elrond...” Ecthelion mumbled, shaking his head, trying to take in this information.

“For the longest time I wandered the shores, a ghost in the flesh, praying the Valar for pity, to slay me and end my misery,” Erestor said, “but none came, until the day I thought I had lost my mind. I had been alone with nothing but dreams of death for so long, that I no longer wanted to exist, and since the Valar were deaf to my pleas, I had wanted to fling myself from a cliff.” Erestor rested his head on Ecthelion’s knee and sighed softly. “Then a blond spectre came to me, asking me not to forsake my life. He told me to cast my name and seek my foster son, serve him well and honestly, this was my one chance of redemption for my wicked deeds.”

Ecthelion laid a trembling hand on Erestor’s hair and buried his fingers in the black mane. “You cannot go west,” he whispered.

“No,” Erestor whispered. “I cannot.” Erestor placed a hand on Ecthelion’s swollen stomach and rubbed it tenderly. “When you came, you frightened me. I was not supposed to find love, and I was not allowed an heir, so I got frightened and believed it all to be a cruel jest from the Valar.”

“Maybe you are done redeeming yourself. Maybe this is, however tragic, your gift from the Valar,” Ecthelion said. “I looked in Galadriel’s mirror, and I saw you. You wore a faceless mask and were in flames, but I knew my reason to my return lay in you somehow. I had never thought I would find love either,” Ecthelion smiled awkwardly. “Now I know what it means,” he whispered.

______________________________________________

  
Even if Elrond had worried, the birth of the baby went smoothly. Erestor had sat by Ecthelion’s side during the operation, worrying to no end, and annoying Elrond because he was scared that Ecthelion might not wake from this strange lifeless state.

As Ecthelion slowly woke, his first reaction was to touch his stomach that was now flat but the skin felt loose. He turned his head, seeing Erestor sitting in a chair by the window, hearing his lover coo like an idiot to the bundle he held in his arms.

Erestor noticed movement, and turned his head, looking at Ecthelion. He got up from his chair and came over to sit at Ecthelion’s side in the bed. “You gave me a gift I would never have dreamed of,” he whispered, blinking away emotional tears from his eyes.

Ecthelion looked at the bundle, and frowned. “I don’t want to know, I don’t want to see it. Should it not be with Celebrian?”

“No,” Erestor whispered. “I wanted to hold her first.”

“It’s a girl?” Ecthelion whispered, dreading the moment when Erestor turned slightly in his seat, showing him the tiniest elfling he had ever seen. She stared at him with huge almond shaped blue eyes. “She’s beautiful.” He reached up and touched the baby’s nose, as if to make sure it was not a mirage or something.

“Yes,” Erestor said dreamily, “she has my fathers mouth.” This made him smile, knowing how proud Fëanor would have been, seeing this miracle child. “Like a true lady of Tirion,” he whispered, kissing the child’s head, before he handed her over to Ecthelion who took her with a twitch, afraid he would break or drop her. But the baby didn’t seem to mind. And Ecthelion smiled. “Your mother will be here soon, little one,” he whispered, surprised to find this made him teary-eyed. He had not expected to feel anything. “I cannot be your mother, my lady. But I can watch over you.” He looked up at Erestor, who beamed with love and pride. “We both will, never will we stray from your side, even if you will never know who we really are.” Tears streamed from his eyes by now. He had thought it would be easy to leave the child, but found that his vow was true. He would never be able to leave, and now he just hoped that Celebrian wouldn't mind that he stayed.

Celebrian came into the room together with Elrond. They looked at Erestor and Ecthelion and the baby, and Celebrian slowly and carefully walked over to the bed, and looked down at Ecthelion and the baby.

Ecthelion looked up and smiled through his tears. “Take good care of her,” he croaked, as he handed the child off to Celebrian, who instantly held her close. Ecthelion felt Erestor's hand in his. “Did you mean what you said?” Erestor said. “Will you stay with me, and not venture west yet?”

“If I may stay here,” Ecthelion said, looking at Celebrian with a plea in his eyes, “let me stay close. I cannot be her mother, but I cannot leave her either.”

“Of course,” Elrond said, stepping up to Erestor, laying his hand on his foster father’s shoulder. “You can stay for as long as you wish.”

____________________________________

  
**EPILOGUE:**

Arwen beamed as a rare jewel as she held Estel’s hand. She had looked forward to this moment for so long. It was hard to understand that they had overcome all obstacles and she was finally to be wed to her beloved. Elrond held their hands and squeezed them with a warm smile, telling Estel to take good care of his daughter. Estel promised, looking from Elrond to Arwen, who was the most beautiful lady he had ever seen.

Ithildin and Erestor stood behind and watched, finding each other hands behind their backs. “She’s beautiful,” Erestor whispered to his beloved.

Ithildin laid his head on Erestor’s shoulder. “I wish it could be me who stood there and handed her to her husband,” he whispered with a little sad smile.

“You are,” Erestor said, “in your own way.” He smiled and leaned in and kissed his lover. “We can’t follow here on the path she chose. She doesn’t need someone to protect her anymore.”

“I know, and my heart weeps,” Ithildin whispered, wiping the tears of sorrow and joy from his eyes. “It is time we leave.”

Erestor turned and kissed Ithildin again. “My heart longs to see the white tower of Tirion once more,” he whispered. “Maybe I have finally been forgiven.”

“I hear the sea as well,” Ithildin whispered, “but let us stay until we cannot ignore the calling any more.”

Erestor nodded and held Ithildin close, watching the wedding ceremony. “I love you, Ecthelion,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Maglor,” Ithildin whispered with a smug smile.

 

**\- THE END -**

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Original 2005 AN; Okay, so this is the first chapter of what became of my raging Ecthelion muse. I am aware that its waaaay out there. Although I am well aware that Ecthelion didn’t have a twin, he does in my story! As explained on my hp, this fic is made out of 4 sections each, with approximately 5 chapters per section. Just like Harvester of Sorrow, if anyone remembers that one, each section will take place in different locations, and this first section/part ‘playing the liar’ is set in Gondolin. And as I said on my hp (omg! it would be easier to go read that than me babbling here, right?) this is a hurt/comfort fic with an extremely fluffy ending. Me being me, there are like a million angsty chapters first, but it is basically written as a daytime TV series. Don’t say I didn’t warn you! Don’t assume anyone is dead because it is said so, or think for one second they are who they claim to be, or have all good intentions, and I really should mention that this is a Mpreg. I did Mpreg before, and I think its a hoot! Additional to the warnings I should also mention that I have completely messed about with timelines and stuff. *wiggles eyebrow* ready? Good..


End file.
